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MADRIGAL1 



CANZONI 

(Ninth Thousand) 
BY 

T. A. DALY 

Illustrated 



JOHN SLOAN 

$1.00, net 

For sale by all Booksellers 
or from 

DAVID McKAY, Publisher 
Philadelphia 



The Laggard in Love. 

Page 20. 



MADRIGALI 



BY 



T. A. DALY 

AUTHOR OF 
CANZONI" and "CARMINA 



PICTURES 

BY 

JOHN SLOAN 




PHILADELPHIA 

DAVID McKAY, Publisher 

604-08 S. Washington Square 



JV2> 



^ 



Copyright by T. A. Daly, 1911, 1912 
Copyright by David McKay, 1912 



©CLA328351 



Wo 

BRENDA 



PROEM 



TO A CORRESPONDENT 

71 /TY favorite poet? Vm afraid 
-^ r^L You'll sneer at my selection; 
And if "a poet's born, not made}' 

It may deserve rejection. 
'Tis true his puny stature shows 

The lines that he is built on 
Much less heroic are than those 
That moulded 

Milton. 

/ grant you may with Byron's fame 
Crush my poor bard's to jelly, 

Or dim his rush-light in the flame 
That wreathes the name of 

Shelley. 

Behold him, too, in thought or style 
Not even Burns' or Blake's peer — 

Poor pigmy piping many a mile 
In rear of 

Shakespeare. 



Yet not for any one of these 

Great names that loom above him 
Would I exchange those qualities 

That make me fondly love him. 
I love his living heart that sings 

And makes my blood flow faster; 
I love so many little things 

Of which he is the master. 
I love his ardent joy of life, 

And, faith — as Vm a sinner — 
/ love his bairns, his home, his wife, 

His appetite for dinner. 
My favorite poet? I'll rejoice 

And tread this old earth gaily 
As long as I can hear the voice 

Of 

T. A. Daly. 



vm 



CONTENTS 

PAGE 

Pasquale Passes 3 

Spring in the Blood 6 

Narcissus 8 

The Blossomy Barrow 10 

The Wise Man o' Beaufort 12 

The Wedding Anniversary 15 

W'en Kitty Kane Obliges 17 

The Laggard in Love 20 

The Whisperers 22 

The Two Blind Men 25 

Dreaming 27 

The Student 29 

The Crows . 31 

The Gift o' the Gab 32 

Tony Maratt' 34 

The Ould Lad o' the Bells 36 

The Knowin' Nicodemus 39 

The Young Widower 41 

The End o' the Day 43 

San Patrice 45 

An Interparochial Affair 47 

The Italian Wind 49 

L'Universale Nota 51 

ix 



PAGE 

The Vestibule 52 

Rosa's Parrakeets 54 

Da Spreeng-Charmer 56 

Girls Will Change 60 

Wen Spreeng Ees Com' 62 

April's Wizardy 64 

The Fallen Tree 66 

Da Faith of Aunta Rosa 68 

Waiting for the Train 70 

Padre's Peencha Snuff 72 

The Scouts of Spring 74 

A Song of Tonio 77 

The Wandering Minstrel 78 

Paradise Regained 80 

April 82 

Easter Eve 84 

The Temperamental Tommasso .... 85 

The Butt o' the Loafers 87 

A Ballade of Brides 89 

Da Greata Basaball 91 

The Man's the Man 94 

Da Summer's Com' 96 

Da Thief 98 

What the Flag Sings 101 

Ballade of Summer's Passing 103 

Sanctuary 105 

Shawn Bhui O'Connor 10? 

Italian Lesson 109 

Artful Young Barney Kehoe Ill 

Leigh Woods Near Bristol Town . . . .113 
x 



PAGE 

Chatterton 116 

Kerry Unvisited 117 

Mr. Hail Colome/ 120 

October Song in Romany 121 

The Magic Apple 123 

A Song to Giulia 125 

The Tides of Love 126 

When Dorando Beat Hayes 127 

The Absent-minded She 128 

W'at'sa "Noraysuicide?" 129 

Da No-good Workaman 131 

Och! 134 

The Golden Girl 135 

Labor's Sabbath 137 

A Child's Christmas Song 139 

Under the Holly 141 

A Christmas Carol 142 

Da Colda Feet 144 

Song of the Christmas Tree 146 

Da Poleetica Boss 148 

Thoughts of Rosa . 150 

Ould Matt'ew Moran 152 

II Grillo 156 

The One Thing Lacking 158 

Business Diplomacy 160 

An Idyll of Old Joys 162 

Finer Clay 166 

The Christmas Reading 168 



XI 



ILLUSTRATIONS 



" Giuseppe da barber ees crazy weeth 

Spreeng" ........ Frontispiece 

"I no can bust up soocha beautiful 

theeng" facing page 10 

" Sittin' in the corner wid their 

elbows on their knees" ... 22 

"Now I mus' leeve for da Madre" . " "34 

" Rosa, weeth her parrakeets" . . " "54 

" She justa pray, an' pray, an' pray" " 68 

' ' Yerra ! boys will have their play' ' " ' ' 88 "' 

"Wan leetla rose stuck een her 



hair" " "98 



1 



" Mother and wife to me, fostering 

Earth!" " " 122" 

"You theenk for sure dey growin' 

dere" " "132 

"Show how you vote jus' by maka 

da cross" " " 148 

"Those pictures old, but ever new" " 168 



Xlll 



MADRIGALI 



PASQUALE PASSES 

ROSA Beppi she'sa got 
Temper dat's so strong an' hot, 
Ees no matter w'at you say, 
Wen she's start for have her way 
She's gon' have eet; you can bat 
Evra cent you got on dat ! 
Theenk she gona mind her Pop? 
She ain't even 'fraid of cop! 
Even devil no could stop 
Rosa Beppi w'en she gat 
Foolish theengs eenside her hat. 
Dat'sa why her Pop ees scare', 
Dat'sa why he growl an' swear 
W'en he see her walkin' out 
Weeth Pasquale from da Sout'. 

Eef, like Beppi, you are com' 
From da countra nort' of Rome, 
You would know dat man from Sout' 
Ain'ta worth for talka 'bout. 
Ees no wondra Beppi swear, 
Growl an' grumbla lika bear. 
W'en da Padre Angelo 

3 



MAD RIGAL1 



Com' an' see heem actin' so, 
He's su'prise 1 an 1 wanta know. 
Beppi tal him. "Ah!" he say, 
"I weell talk weeth her to-day. 
So she stoppa walkin 1 out 
Weeth Pasquale from da Sout'." 

Beppi shak' bees head an 1 sigh. 
He don't theenk eet's use for try. 
But da Padre smile an 1 say: 
"I gon' speak weeth her to-day." 
Pretta soon, bimeby, he do — 
Only say wan word or two — 
But so soon as he ees through 
You should see da Rosa! My I 
Dere's a fire from her eye, 
Cutta through you lika knife. 
She ees mad, you bat my life ! 
But no more she's walkin' out 
Weeth Pasquale from da Sout'. 

Beppi's gladdest man I know 
Wen he see how theengsa go. 
"My!" he say, "I am su'prise' 
Church can be so strong an' wise." 



M A 1) RIG \ 1- 1 



"Yes,' 1 say Padre Angelo, 

"Church ees always wisa so. 
All I say to her eca dc< 
'Rosa, I am moocha please' 
Dat at las' you gotta beau. 
He ain't verra good wan, no; 
But you need no minda dat 
Seence he's best dat you can eat. 
So I'm glad for see you out 
Weeth Pasquale from da SoutV 



MADRIGALI 



SPRING IN THE BLOOD 

|F, when spring is in the blood, 
* ('Tis of Irish blood I'm speakin') 
All the peace o' bachelorhood 
Glad ye'd be to be forsakin' 
For the hope o' joy that lies 
In a pair o' sparklin' eyes 
Wishful to possess ye, 
Take your chance o' paradise 
An' Heaven bless ye ! 

If, when spring is in the blood, 

Grosser appetites awaken, 
An' ye feel a thirst that could, 
Maybe, bear a little slakin' — 
If to clear your throat o' dust 
Mountain-dew will ease ye, just — 

Sure, I'd never chide ye. 
Take your tipple if ye must, 
An' Wisdom guide ye.! 

If, when spring is in the blood, 

Weary on your toil, ye're wishin' 
You could wander through the wood 



MADRIGALI 



Where the other lads are fishin' ; 
If such sport as ye could know 
Where the Irish rivers flow 

Waters here can lend ye, 
Seize your day of pleasure; go, 

An' Luck attend ye ! 

If, when spring is in the blood, 

Play-boy pranks nor eyes o' woman 
Stir your heart-strings as they should, 
Faith, ye're somethin' less than human ! 
What ye need's another birth; 
Though, indeed, 'twould not be worth 

All the trouble to remake ye. 
Fit for neither heaven nor earth, 
The Divvil take ye ! 



MADRIGALI 



NARCISSUS 

ONE night, while yet the wold 
Lay dormant with the cold, 

I flung the casement wide 
And, pausing ere I drew 
The outer shutters to, 

A lovely thing espied — 
A thing of precious worth, 
A bit of heaven in earth — 
A star in water. 
Beneath the rose-bush bare 
A rain-pool glassed it. There, 

By its own beauty glamored, 
It poised above the brink, 
Flashed down and seemed to sink 

To darkness, self-enamored. 

That vision of delight 

Oft walked my dreams at night. 

Lo ! now 'tis fructified ! . 
This morning when I rose 
And scanned my garden close, 

What marvel I espied! 
A wonder of new birth, 



MADRIGALI 



A bit of heaven in earth — 
A star in blossom ! 
Beneath the rose-bush bare 
It braves the chilly air, 

With beauty's self to bless us; 
Spring's herald true ! Behold, 
With horn of gleaming gold, 

The heaven-born Narcissus! 



io MADRIGALI 



THE BLOSSOMY BARROW 

ANTONIO Sarto ees buildin' a wall, 
But maybe he nevva gon' feenish at 
all. 

Eet sure won'ta be 
Teell flower an' tree 
An* all kinda growin' theengs sleep een da 
Fall. 

You see, deesa 'Tonio always ees want' 
To leeve on a farm, so he buy wan las' mont'. 
I s'posa som' day eet be verra nice place, 
But shape dat he find eet een sure ees 

"deesgrace;" 
Eet's busta so bad he must feexin' eet all, 
An' firs' theeng he starta for build ees da 

wall. 
Mysal' I go outa for see heem wan day, 
An' dere I am catcha heem sweatin' away; 
He's liftin' beeg stones from all parts of 

hees land 
An' takin' dem up to da wall een hees hand ! 
I say to heem : "Tony, why don'ta you gat 
Som' leetla wheel-barrow for halo you 
weeth dat?" 




*z%u+ t3% 



MADRIGALI n 

"O ! com' an' I show you w'at's matter," he 

said, 
An' so we go look at hees tools een da shed. 
Dere's fina beeg wheel-barrow dere on da 

floor, 
But w'at do you s'pose? From een under 

da door 
Som' mornin'-glor' vines have creep eento 

da shed, 
An' beautiful flower, all purpla an' red, 
Smile out from da vina so pretty an' green 
Dat tweest round da wheel an' da sides da 

machine. 
I look at dees Tony an' say to heem: "Wal?" 
An' Tony he look back at me an' say: "Hal! 
I no can bust up soocha beautiful theeng; 
I work weeth my han's eef eet tak' me teell 

spreeng!" 

Antonio Sarto ees buildin' a wall, 

But maybe he nevva gon' f eenish at all. 

Eet sure won'ta be 

Teell flower an' tree 
An' all kinda growin' theengs sleep een da 
Fall. 



12 MADRIGALI 



THE WISE MAN O' BEAU- 
FORT 

I MIND the day I went away, away from 
Beaufort town, 
With passage money in my purse, but little 
else beside 
These two strong hands I meant one day to 
lay on Fortune's frown 
And twist the fickle face of her till it was 
smiling wide. 
Not there among the Kerry hills could such 
a task be done, 
Not there where freedom's self had slept 
five hundred years and more, 
With each day, from the rising to the setting 
o' the sun, 
As like the one to follow as the one that 
went before; 
Where young men trod their fathers' heels 
contentedly and dreamed, . 
Nor ever strove for greater wealth or 
knowledge or renown 
Than blessed the master o' the school — John 
Kearney — who was deemed 



MADRIGALI 13 

The wisest and the richest man in all o' 
Beaufort town. 

With hopes and fears these many years I've 
toiled in foreign lands, 
And cheek by jowl with Poverty trudged 
on behind the plough, 
But these two restless hands o' mine, these 
bare, work-hardened hands 
That plucked the frown from Fortune's 
brow are filled with money now. 
And knowledge deeper than the kind that 
ever scholar read, 
Or master ever taught from books in quiet 
study hall, 
I've gathered through the passing years 
within this grizzled head, 
All ready there for instant use whatever 
need may call. 
Small wonder, then, that I, for wealth and 
wisdom widely famed, 
Would smile a pitying smile betimes at 
thought o' the renown 
Of Master Kearney there at home, that all 
the neighbors named 
The wisest and the richest man in all o' 
Beaufort town. 



i 4 MADRIGALI 

To-day I roam where once was home. Back 
here in Beaufort town 
I walk the old, familiar ways, but, O ! 
the bitter change; 
For out o' tune with everything I wander up 
and down, 
A stranger to the neighbor-folk, whose 
very speech is strange. 
The great wide world I fought until it 
yielded me its gold 
Has put its mark upon me, and it will not 
let me rest. 
I look with sorrow on the hills that never 
more can hold 
Contentment for the restless heart that 
beats within my breast. 
And so for all my wealth and fame, for all 
my presence here, 
John Kearney o' the little school, who 
prates of verb and noun, 
And has no care for anything beyond his 
narrow sphere, 
Is still the wisest, richest man in all o* 
Beaufort town. 



MADRIGALI 15 



THE WEDDING ANNIVER- 
SARY 

EEF, mebbe so, you gotta wife 
Dat's good as mine to me, 
You weell be glad for mak' her life 
So happy as can be. 

Las' fall Carlotta tak' my han' 

An' maka me so happy man; 

Wan year to-day she ees my mate, 

An' so to-night we celebrate. 

You theenk I would forgat da day 

Dat pour sooch sunshine on my way? 

Ah ! no, I gona lat her see 

How kinda husban' I can be; 

How glad I am she ees so true, 

How proud for all da work she do. 

An' so for mak' her work for me 

More easy dan eet use' for be, 

An' show how mooch my heart ees stir' — 

I buy a leetla geeft for her. 

Carlotta got so pretta hair, 

I buy her som'theeng nice for wear — 



16 MADRIGALI 

Eh? Wat? O! no, ees notta hat; 

Ees som'theeng mooch more use dan dat. 

Eet's leetla pad, so sof an' theeck 

An' stuff' weeth wool, dat she can steeck 

On top da hair upon her head, 

So lika leetla feathra bed. 

Eet sure weell mak' her feela good 

Wen she ees carry loada wood; 

An' mebbe so eet halp her, too, 

For carry more dan now she do. 

So mooch weeth love my heart ees stir' 

I buy dees leetla geeft for her. 

Eef, mebbe so, you gotta wife 

Dat's good as mine to me, 
You, too, would try for mak' her life 

So happy as can be. 



MADRIGALI 17 



WEN KITTY KANE 
OBLIGES 

OH ! youse kin talk erbout de style 
Mis' Patti useter fling, 
An' how she'd make youse cry or smile 

To hear de songs she'd sing. 
She may be all de highbrows claim, 

She may be great fur fair, 
But Music is an open game ; 

It ain't no solitaire. 
An' dough she played to one night Stan's 

Wat panned out t'ousands clear, 
She never got no round o' han's 

As honest an' sincere 
As shakes our Social's clubroom w'en 

We pass de woid along: 
" 'Shi Mister Mackin's lady frien' 

Is goin' ter sing a song." 

My lady frien' ! Her steady gent ! 

I sit down be her side, 
A-playin' her accomp'niment 

An' boinin' up wit' pride. 



MADRIGALI 



Me concertina seems ter know 

De woik it's got ter do; 
No udder time de notes would flow 

So musical an' true. 
An' den she starts ter sing. O, boys! 

I would'n' miss a note 
Uv all de melted tears an' joys 

Wat ripples frum 'er t'roat. 
An' foist me heart seems choked an' den 

It's jumpin' good an' strong 
Wen Kitty Kane, me lady frien', 

Obliges wit' a song. 

"De songs My Mammy Sang ter Me," 

Dat dere's my favoryte; 
A pooty song it is, an' she 

Kin sing it outer sight. 
Foist off she goes a-warblin' t'rough 

De laughin', jinglin' rhyme, 
An' den, no matter w'at youse do, 

Youse can't help pattin' time. 
Den suddint comes de solemn part — 

Her sweet voice trimbles so, 
It builds an ice house 'roun' yer heart 

An' tear-tanks overflow. 



MADRIGALI 19 

An' den yer back to eart' agen, 

A-cheerin' loud an' long, 
Wen Kitty Kane, me lady frien', 

Obliges wit' a song. 

O! Kitty Kane, how long! how long! 

I'll on'y be content 
Wen youse have sung yer weddin' song 

Ter my accomp'niment. 



2o M A D R I G A L I 



THE LAGGARD IN LOVE 



o 



H ! Giuseppe da barber ees crazy weeth 



spreeng! 



He's no good een da daytimes for doin' a 

theeng 
But to theenk of da night an da tunes he 

weell seeng. 
Alia time w'en som' customer gat een hees 

chair, 
He's so slow weeth da shave an' weeth cuttin' 

da hair, 
Dat hees boss ain't do notheeng but grumble 

an' swear. 
But Giuseppe no care 

For wan blessa blame theeng, 
But to play mandolina 
Where som' signorina 
Weell listen at night to da love-song he 
seeng. 

Com' Giuseppe da barber last nigh'ta too late 
To da house of da Rosa an' stan' by da gate, 
An he seeng like II Gatto dat cry for hees 
mate. 



MADRIGALI 21 

— ~— ~~ ■— ^^— ^^^ i 

Soocha playnta love-music, sooch cooin', 

sooch sighs, 
Soocha sounds from da heart — an' sooch 

looka su'prise 
Wen he leeft hees face up an' stare eento 

my eyes 
Lookin' down from da wall ! 
Ah ! Giuseppe, your call 

Should be starta more earla 
For catcha my girla, 
For w'en da spreeng's here / no workin' 
at all! 



22 MADRIGALI 



THE WHISPERERS 

LOOK at ould Mag Carmody an' Anas- 
tasia Moore, 
Sittin' in the corner wid their elbows on 
their knees; 
Wid their bony backs bent over an' their 
worn hands clasped before, 
An' the two white heads together like a 
pair o' buzzin' bees. 
Wasps, more like, you'd call them, for the 
talk your fancy hears 
Passin' now between them wid a sting in 
every word, 
Talk, ye think, would have the neighbors 
tinglin' at the ears, 
Wid the heat of anger an' resentment if 
they heard. 

So, if you'd your way, 
Faith, belike, you'd say: 
"Rise up, whisp'rin gossips', rise! 
L'ave your scandals an' your lies; 
Time enough for bitterness when wintry days 
befall. 



MADRIGALI 23 

But the year is at the spring, 
Joy an' kindness are a-wing; 
Even wasps are Mayin' now upon the sunny 
wall." 

Look upon the whisperers again — an' hang 
yer head; 
Look upon them kindly, for not long you'll 
know their likes. 
These are of the troublous days whose 
whisperin' was bred 
By the roar o' tyrant guns an' clash o' 
patriot pikes. 
Innocent an' simple is the talk that now they 
make, 
Chat of olden buried things, for thoughts 
of age are long. 
They've no need to whisper, still a habit's 
hard to break, 
An' wid two to nurse the same, sure they 
keep it strong. 

So, if you'd be kind, 
Thus you'll speak your mind : 
"Rise up, dear ould women, rise! 
Here you're under friendly skies; 



24 



MADRIGALI 



Come an' take your fill o' talk an' share the 
genial sun. 
Here the year is at the spring, 
Joy and kindness are a-wing; 
Come, forget the bitterness o' days that's 
dead an' done. 



MADRIGALI 25 



THE TWO BLIND MEN 

GOOD avenin' to ye, Father; will ye be 
to bide a minyit? 
'Tis a week o' weeks since ye was here 
before. 
There' manny feet goes up the sthreet, an' 
once yer own was in it — 
Last night I heard yer footsteps pass me 
door. 
Och ! musha, Father, who am I to stop a 
soggarth passin' by 
To wan that needs him more? 

Aye! "Conor o' the Brooms." I know; he 
bragged of it this mornin', 
Wid a dale o' windy wurrds, "sez I," 
"sez he." 
Ye may go bail he'd make the tale, wid 
fanciful adornin', 
As wonderful as anny tale could be. 
Sure, Father, 'tis mesel' that's glad ye wint 
to cheer yon poor ould lad, 
That's blinder far nor me. 



26 MADRIGALI 

O, yes, there is a differ, though, I'm free to 
be admittin', 
Ways, the two of us is blind as anny stone. 
But times, ye see, Con sez to me: "I feel 
so blind jist sittin' 
Wid no wan nigh, jist sittin' by me lone." 
They're blind indeed, poor souls, that need 
another's mind to see and read 
What thoughts are in their own. 

So ye needn't think I'm jealous of a lad like 
poor ould Conor, 
Fur me own mind's stored wid company 
galore. 
An' 'tis little I'll be carin' — though I thank 
ye fur the honor — 
If ye're passin' by or stoppin' at me door. 
Sure, ye're welcome, Father Mack, but I'd 
nivver call ye back 
From wan that needs ye more. 



MADRIGALI 27 



DREAMING 

1HATE to read of millionaires, 
Because such reading seems 
To hypnotize me utterly 

And start me dreaming dreams. 
How many times I've figured out 

What I'd be apt to do 
If I were in that fellow's place 

And had a million, too. 
Of course, I'd use my fortune well 

More sensibly than he, 
For I'd give ten per cent, at least 

To worthy chanty. 
Another ten per cent, would go 

To help along a few 
Of my deserving relatives 

Whose bills are overdue. 
And then my duty to the church; 

Of course, a goodly share — 
Say, twenty-five per cent, or so — 

Would be devoted there. 
I'd give this latter quietly, 

Insisting that my name 



28 MADRIGALI 

Must be withheld, that none might know 

Whence this donation came. 
I'd only let the pastor know — 

He'd have to know, you see — 
Because my name upon the check 

Would show it was from me. 
Another twenty-five per cent. 

Would do myself and wife; 
The income we'd derive from that 

Would keep us both for life. 
Then, after that — well, after that 

I dream away and plan 
To spend still other ten per cents. 

To help my fellow-man. 
And finally my dreaming gets 

A bit confused, and then 
I take a tumble and my feet 

Touch solid earth again; 
And common sense assures me, as 

It stops me with a jerk, 
I've wasted time enough to do 

A dollar's worth of work. 



MADRIGALI 29 



THE STUDENT 

SPEAK not weeth Dagoman dat sweep da 
street; 
He ees too domb, Signor. 
All sense he got ees een hees han's an' feet, 

Jus' dat an' notheeng more. 
You laugh for hear heem talk an' mak' 
meestak', 
But, com', eef you would see 
How smart som' Dago ees seet down an' 
mak' 
Som' leetla talk weeth me. 
Com', let us talk of wisa theengs we know. 

So, now I weell baygeen : 
Ees eet not strange, my frand, how aard- 
varks grow 
An' keep from gattin' theen? 
Eetmus' be tough for eatin' ants an' sooch 

So like dese aard-varks do ; 
You bat my life, I would no like eet mooch, 

No more, I s'pose, would you — 
Wat? "Aard-vark?" Sure! Eh, w'at ees 
dat you say? 
Som'theeng you nevva heard? 



30 MADRIGALI 

O, yes, "a-a-r-d-v-a-r-k;" 

Dat's how ees spal da word. 
Eet ees een book, da wisa book I read 

Dat tal all theengs you want. 
Ees call' "da 'Mericana Cyclopaed;" 

I buy we wan las' mont'. 
An' lasta week I learn da firsta page; 

Nex' week I learna two. 
You bat my life, w'en I am good old age 

I gon' know more dan you. 
I am su'prise' how mooch you don'ta know; 

You are not smart, Signor. 
Ah, wal, good-bye ! Com' back een week 
or so, 

I learn you som'theeng more. 



MADRIGALI 31 



THE CROWS 

CAW! caw! caw! 
When last we heard their cry, 
These prophesying crows, 
They flecked a leaden sky, 

South-blown before the snows; 
And down the whistling wind 
Came winter's woes behind 

Their caw ! caw ! caw ! 
Ne'er swelled a feathered throat 
With half so sad a note. 

Caw ! caw! caw! 
The South hath blown them back. 

With many a flashing wing 
The blue's rain-sweetened track 

Is augural of spring; 
Again from out the sky 
Floats down the raucous cry 
Of caw ! caw ! caw ! 
But where's the feathered throat 
That hath a gladder note? 



32 MADRIGALI 



THE GIFT O' THE GAB 

OCH ! there was ne'er such a quare 
twisted crayture 

As Shaemus McNabb. 
Irish in name an' by birth, but by nature 

A surly ould crab. 
"Silence is goolden," sez he, u an' 'twill lessen 

the 
Most of our throubles here." Och ! 'tis 

disthressin', the 
Way he's malignin' that chief Irish blessin' — 
the 

Gift o' the gab ! 

"Silence!" sez he. An' ye ralely can't 
blame us, 

Who're proud o' the gab, 
If, now an' then, we go afther this Shaemus 

An' give him a jab. 
"What then," sez I, "would we win Irish 

freedom wid? 
Chasin' the British out, what would ye 
speed 'em wid? 



MADRIGALI 33 

Dried Irish tongues would ye fatten an' feed 
'em wid, 

Shaemus McNabb?" 

"Silence!" he roars; "will ye never be quiet? 

Ye blather an* blab, 
Stirrin' the counthry to murther an' riot 

Wid gift o' the gab!" 
So will he argue by night an' by day wid you, 
Roarin' an' fightin' to have the last say wid 

you. 
"Silence!" sez he — Och! the Divvil fly 'way 
wid you, 

Shaemus McNabb! 



34 MADRIGALI 



TONY MARAT T' 

TONY Maratt' eesa yo'ng 'Merican, 
Born an' raise' up een dees beautiful 
Ian'. 
Padre from Genoa, madre from Rom', 
Long tima seence to dees countra ees com'. 

Nevva mind dat! 
Look at heem now ! From da sola hees feet 

To da toppa hees hat, 
Mos' evrawhere dat you walk een da street 
Here ees mos' styleesh yo'ng man you can 
meet — 

Tony Maratt'. 

Strong ees dees Tony Maratt', like hees Pa. 
Ah! but hees heart eesa sof, like hees Ma. 
So seence las' year, w'en hees padre ees die, 
Tony Maratt' ain't do notheeng but cry. 

Wat you theenk dat? 
"Padre ees worka too hard for hees pay, 

An' jus' see w'at he gat! 
My! eet ees sad he should go deesa way; 
Now I mus' leeve for da madre," ees say 
Tony Maratt'. 




mm/ r ; ;i - — ■ . 



- / 



MADRIGALI 35 

Madre Maratt', now da padre ees dead, 
Gotta work harda for maka da bread. 
Tony ees sad for da padre, but steell 
Jus' for da madre he tiyin' to feel 

Happy an' fat. 
"Don'ta be scare', leetla madre," say he, 

"I no die lika dat. 
I ain't gon' workin' at all, for, you see, 
You ain't got nobody lefta but me — 
Tony Maratt'." 



36 MADRIGALI 



THE OULD LAD O' THE 
BELLS 

HARK! 
The bell o' St. Mark, 
How it moithers the air! 
Sure, I can't understand 
All the bells in this land — 
I declare 
But it's quare — 
Whin the bells o'er the sea are so joyous an' 
grand. 

Now, whin I was a boy, 

By the town o' Clonmel, 
I drank nothin' but joy 

From the rim of a bell. 
Was it rung for two wed, 

Was it summons to prayer, 
Was it tolled for wan dead, 

Still the music was there ; ' 
Every hillside an' glen, 

Every hollow an' glade 



MADRIGALI 37 

Rang agen an' agen 

Wid the echoes it made. 
An' the good folk that trod 

To the call o' the bell 
Gave a "Glory to God!" 

For whatever befell. 
Don't I mind — bless me soul! 

Me a wee curly head — 
How we heard the bells toll 

Whin O'Connell was dead? 
I can mind that same day, 

Aye ! I see mesel' well 
As I stopped in me play 

At the sound o' the bell; 
An' I hold in me ear 

All its music that's past, 
Tho' it's sixty-odd year 

Since I heard it the last. 
For I can't live it down, 

An' I hear it ring yet 
O'er the bells o' this town, 

Wid their tears an' regret — 

Hark! 
The bell o' St. Mark, 
How it moithers the air! 



38 MADRIGALI 



Sure, it ought to be gay, 
Tis a weddin', they say — 
I declare 
But it's quare — 
An' the bells o'er the sea are so joyous 
alway. 



MADRIGALI 39 



THE KNOWIN' NICO- 
DEMUS 

MOST aggervatin' critter wuz old Nico- 
demus Brown; 
He knowed it all an' bound to have his say. 
Thar wuzn't no theayter-play thet ever come 
to town 
But Brown he'd git to see it night or day. 
He'd make a p'int to git his seat 'fore any o' 
the rest, 
An when the curtain riz upon the show 
An' all the actors sot to work, he'd do his 
level best 
To figger how the plot wuz goin' to go. 
An' when the most excitin' part of all wuz 
gittin' near, 
An' folks wuz settin' narvous an' 
perplexed, 
Old Brown he'd whisper loud enough fur 
every one to hear: 
"I'll bet ye I kin tell whut's comin' next." 

Thar wuzn't any curin' him. He'd do the 
same in church, 



4 o MADRIGALI 

Or anywheres he happened fur to be ; 
Fur, like a dern poll-parrot hoppin' round 
upon its perch, 
He'd squawk to all his critics: "Talk is 
free!" 
But when the Typhoi' wuz around last 
August wuz a year, 
It tackled onto Nick an' tuck him down; 
An' then he got religion, fur he tho't his end 
wuz near, 
An', sure enough, thet wuz the end o' 
Brown. 
His folks wuz gethered by his bed, an' jest 
afore he died, 
While Deacon Jones wuz readin' of a text, 
The sick man smiled, an', "Waal, I'm done 
with this here life," he sighed; 
"I'll bet ye I kin tell whut's comin' next." 



MADRIGALI 41 



THE YOUNG WIDOWER 



fiX/'OU do not weep," the childless 

JL woman said. 
The babe stirred in his arms; he shook his 
head: 
"I have outworn my grieving. 
Better than tears I pledge my sainted dead — 
Devotion to the living." 



"A costly life. Your wife you would 

prefer " 

"Have done ! I would prefer," he said, 
"for her 
A truer sympathizer 
Than you, who often boasted that you were 
Unnaturally wiser." 

"I came to sympathize, and yet it's true — " 
"Ah ! yes," he said, "and when my grief was 
new 

Your words did come to taunt me. 
But I have need of nothing now from you — 

You cannot cheer or daunt me." 



42 MADRIGALI 

"Yet I may mourn for Womanhood " 

He said: 
"Aye! mourn for that — to-night, beside your 
bed, 
For Womanhood be grieving — 
Not Womanhood triumphant in the dead, 
But throttled in the living." 



MADRIGALI 43 



THE END O' THE DAY 

TjERE'Stheendo' the day, 
^ A An' this weary ould planet 
Turns again to the gray, 

Dewy dusk that began it. 
An' meself that's no more 

Nor a midge or a flea 
Or a sand o' the shore, 

Who'd be thinkin' o' me 
At the end o' the day? 

Here's the end o' the day, 

An' it's little I'm winnin' 
Wid my toilin' away 

Since the same was beginnin'; 
But for all I'm so small, 

Trudgin' on by my lone, 
If no evil befall 

I've a world o' my own 

At the end o' the day. 
* 
Here's the end o' the day, 

An' the stars, growin' bolder, 
Now the sun is away, 

Peep above the hill's shoulder; 



44 MADRIGALI 

An' 'tis they that can see 
That the dusty boreen 

Is a king's road for me 
To my castle an' queen, 
At the end o' the day. 



M A D R I G A L I 45 



SAN PATRICE 

NOW w T en spreengtime ees baygeen 
Geeve da grass eets tendra green, 
An' da sweetness to da air, 
Lees'en to my leetla prayer, 
San Patrice ! 

Een da Ian' from w'at I came 
Ees not manny speak your name; 
Ees not manny call you great, 
Like een dees Unita State', 
Where all know w'at eet ees mean 
W'en dey wear da beet of green 

Lika dees. 
See da reebbon on my breast, 
Jus' da sama like da rest? 

San Patrice ! 

Pleass, I ask you, San Patrice, 
Mak' da green be flag of peace. 
Eef so be da Irish race 
Ees da boss for all dees place, 
Mak' dem be so great an' good, 



46 MADRIGALI 

Strong for granda brotherhood 

An' for peace. 
Dey weell halp me, too, be gay 
On your gladda feasta day, 

San Patrice ! 



MADRIGALI 47 



AN INTERPAROCHIAL 
AFFAIR 

OCH ! there's divil a parish at all 
Like this one o' St. Paul. 
Here the winter begins wid the fall 
An' it sticks to the middle o' May. 
Streets an' houses an' people are gray, 
An' the night lends its hue to the day; 
For the blessed sun's light hangs like fog on 

the walls 
Where a man does be livin' his lone in St. 

Paul's. 

Faith, 'tis odd that the same parish plan 
Gave so much to St. Ann. 
There's one parish that's fit for a man 
Wid a hunger for warmth an' for light! 
'Tis a comfort to find, day an' night, 
Streets an' houses an' people so bright; 
For there's summer-warm hearts an' there's 

kind, open han's, 
An' a girl wid a face like a rose, in St. Ann's. 



48 MADRIGALI 



In a parish just over the line, 

Called St. John the Divine, 

There's a cozy new cot, an' it's mine ! 

Oh ! 'tis I will have throuble to hide 

From my face all the joy an' the pride 

That my heart will be f eelin' inside, 

When next Sunday at Mass they'll be readin 

the banns 
For meself o' St. Paul's and Herself o' St. 

Ann's. 



MADRIGALI 49 



THE ITALIAN WIND 

DO not like da ween' dat blows 
* Along da ceety street. 
Eet breengs a message to da nose 

Dat ees not always sweet. 
An', too, eet brags, dees ceety ween', 

How reech som' peopla are — 
Dat's w'en eet's drunk with gasolene 

From passin' motor-car. 
Eet ees no wondra I am sad 

For hear eet blow like dat 
An' speak of theengs I nevva had 

An' nevva gona gat. 

So, here I'm sad; but mebbe so 

I weell be happy yat. 
Dere ees een countra-place I know 

A farm dat I can gat. 
An' soon as I can finda man 

Dat like dees ceety street 
An' buy from me dees leetla stan', 

I gona jomp at eet. 



50 MADRIGALI 

Ah ! den w'en I am plant da leek 

An' garlic dere, you see, 
Dose countra ween's dey sure weell speak 

Italian to me! 



MADRIGALI 51 



L'UNIVERSALE NOTA 

DEES earth, so solid to our feet, 
Ees ours dat walk about on eet; 
Yet men of manny deef'rent land 

Speak manny deef'rent way, 
An' I can only ondrastand 
Wat my own peopla say. 

Da sea, dat ees all lands baytween, 
Not wan race for eets own can ween; 
Yet frands of mine an' your frands, too, 

Mak' sooch sad calling from da sea, 
Dey speak wan langwadge now to you 

An' wan same tongue to me. 



April 15, 1912. 



52 MADRIGALI 



THE VESTIBULE 

EVERY mansion, every cot, 
Be it great or small, 
Hath a room, a tiny spot, 

Seldom praised at all. 
Bards have sung of "marble halls," 
"Banquet rooms" and "pictured walls," 

And of "gardens cool." 
Not to these our thoughts belong; 
We would make a little song 

Of "The Vestibule." 

Unromantic little place, 

Narrow, close and bare? 
Not if we in fancy trace 

All that happens there : 
Welcome to the honored guest, 
Little lips to mother's pressed 

Ere they start for school, 
Lingering lovers' last good-night — 
Lots of room for Fancy's flight 

In the vestibule ! 

There shall Fancy contemplate 
Still a greater bliss: 



MADRIGALI 53 

When the good wife speeds her mate 

With a morning kiss. 
He who will not, when he may, 
With this blessing start the day, 

Is a knave or fool. 
Many cares are overthrown, 
Many battles fought and won 

From the vestibule ! 



54 MADRIGALI 



ROSA'S PARRAKEETS 

|3 OSA, weeth her parrakeets, 

Tal da fortune een da streets. 
Geeve her fiva cent an' see 
Wat your fortune gona be. 
Leetla birds so smart, so wise, 
Seet een cage an' weenk deir eyes; 
Seettin' een a row dey wait 
Teell she ope' da leetla gate, 
An' she tak' wan on a steeck, 
Keessa heem an' mak' heem peeck 
Fortune card out weeth hees beak. 
Wat da card ees say to you 
Mebbe so ees gon' com' true. 
Som' day, mebbe, I weell see 
Wat my fortune gona be. 
Eef I could be parrakeet 
Dat she eesa keess so sweet, • 
I am sure I would be wise 
Jus' for lookin' een her eyes; 



MADRIGALI 55 



Mebbe so I be so smart 
I find fortune een her heart! 
Dat's a kinda fortune, too, 
I could weesh ees gon' com' true. 



56 MADRIGALI 



DA SPREENG-CHARMER 

4 i /^\ H ! ees eet true — you tal me so — 
^^ Da spreeng would com' eef you 
would go 
An' play for eet?" say leetla Joe. 

Den bigga Joe, da music-man, 
He pat da leetla skeenny han' 
An' "sure!" he say; "I go nex' week. 
You see, my street-pian' ees seeck, 
So lika you. All weentra long 
Eet was too cold for maka song; 
But now I theenk a leetla beet 
Your mediceene gon' feexin' eet?" 
Joe smile, an' so da leetla boy 
Smile, too, an' clap hees han's for joy; 
An' all dat week he count da day 
Teell time hees Pop shall go an' play. 
So com' da day at las', an' dough 
Steell een da streets ees ice an' snow, 
Beeg Joe mus' do dees theeng for pleass 
Dat leetla boy, aldough he freeze. 



MADRIGALI 57 

Den home agen dat night he say: 

"I ain't quite do da treeck to-day; 

You see, da spreeng mus' hear me play, 

An' here een ogly ceety street 

I no gat verra close to eet; 

I musta go more far away." 

So passa mebbe two, three day 

An' notheeng com'. Wan night, bimeby, 

Da leetla boy baygeen to cry, 

So Joe say: "Wait a leetla beet 

An' sure I weell be catchm' eet." 

Nex' night he com' an' cry: "Hallo! 

Here's granda news for leetla Joe. 

To-day — O ! verra, verra close — 

I see da spreeng! An' w'at you s'pose? 

Eet's justa leetla laughin' breeze 

Dat jomp about among da trees! 

An', O ! eet dance so bright an' gay 

So soon as eet ees hear me play; 

I sure I catch eet soon som' day." 

Bimeby, wan night, w'en Joe gat home, 
He wheespra: "Sh! da spreeng ees com'! 
Don't maka noise or you weell scare; 
Eet's een da alley downa-stair! 



58 MADRIGALI 

You see, to-day w'en I am play 
Out een da countra, far away, 
Agen ees com' dat leetla breeze. 
Eet keess da buds upon da trees, 
An' tease da brook an' hop around 
An' coax da flowers from da ground, 
An' pretta soon so close I gat 
I see eet keess a violat. 
Den — presto ! eet ees een my hat! 
So here, O ! leetla Joe, I breeng 
For you, for you, da gladda spreeng ! 
'Sh! keepa steell, or you weell scare; 
Eet's een da alley downa-stair." 
u O! pleass," ees say da leetla boy, 
An' he ees clap hees han's for joy, 
"O! lat eet com' an' play weeth me." 
Beeg Joe say: "No, not yat. You see, 
To breeng eenside would nevva do; 
Dat mak' eet seeck, more seeck dan you. 
But, leetla Joe, you geeve eet time 
An' pretta soon dat breeze weell climb 
Outside upon your weendow-seell, 
Eef you be good an' keepa steell." 

Wan morna soon w'en Joe gat up 
Da worl' ees lika wina-cup, 



MADRIGALI 59 

So reech an' sweet da air. An' so 

He run an' cry to leetla Joe : 

"Da spreeng! See now da leetla breeze 

Ees at your weendow? Here eet ees!" 

So den he leeft da window wide 

An' lat da warma breeze eenside. 

Da leetla boy he ope' hees mout' 

An' breathe eet een an' breathe eet out, 

An' laugh to feel eet een hees hair, 

On han's an' face an' evrawhere. 

"O! my, how sweet!" say bigga Joe. 

"Com', sneeff eet een your nosa — so ! — 

Dat smal ees steeckin' to eet yat 

From where eet keess da violat. 

Ah ! leetla Joe, w'at weell you do 

Forme dat catch da spreeng for you?" 

Oh, my! sooch keesses warm an' long! 

Sooch huggin', too, so glad, so strong! 

You nevva see a leetla boy 

Dat ees so crazy-wild weeth joy. 

"Aha ! deed I no tal you so, 

Dat spreeng would com' so soon you go 

An' play for eet?" say leetla Joe. 



6o MADRIGALI 



GIRLS WILL CHANGE 

I "HEY say the girls they're raisin* here 
A Has very takin' ways. 
Mayhap 'tis true, but, dear, O! dear, 

'Tis not their likes I'd praise. 
There's not a wan of all the lot » 

I've ever chanced to see — 
Not wan o' them — that ever got 

A heart-throb out o' me. 
An', sure, I'm not so hard to pl'ase; 

'Tis I that used to know 
A score o' maids deservin' praise — 

But that was long ago. 

Although the times an' styles may change, 

A maid is still a maid; 
But here she looks an' acts so strange, 

She's different, I'm afraid. 
Mayhap the climate here's to blame 

For all the faults I see; 
At anny rate, they're not the same 

As maidens used to be. 



MADRIGALI 61 



But Irish maids ! Och, over there 
The girls I used to know 

Were always sweet an' true an' fair- 
Was that so long ago? 



62 M A D R 1 G A L I 



WEN SPREENG EES COM 1 

OH! 'scusa, lady, 'scusa, pleass', 
For dat I stop an' stare; 
I no can halpa do like dees 
Wen Spreeng ees een da air. 

I s'pose you know how moocha joy 
Ees feell da heart of leetla boy, 
Wen beeg parade ees passa by, 
Eef he can climb da pole so high; 
Or find on window-seell a seat 
Where he can see da whola street, 
An' watch da soldiers marcha 'way 
An' hear da sweeta music play. 
Ah! lady, eef dees joy you know, 
You would no frown upon me so. 
For, like da boy dat climb da pole, 
From deep eensida me my soul — 
My hongry, starva soul — ees rise 
Onteell eet looka from my eyes 
At all dat com' so sweet an' fair 
Wen now da Spreeng ees een da air; 
At greena grass, at buddin' trees 
Dat wave deir branches een da breeze, 



MADRIGALI 63 

At leetla birds dat hop an' seeng 
Baycause dey are so glad for Spreeng — 
An' you dat look so pure, so sweet, 
O! lady, you are part of eet! 

So, 'scusa, lady, 'scusa, pleass', 

For dat I stop an' stare; 
I no can halpa do like dees 

Wen Spreeng ees een da air. 



64 MADRIGALI 



APRIL'S WIZARDRY 

1WOKE at dawn and heard the rain 
And far-off snarls of thunder. 
I closed my eyes that sleep again 
Might draw my senses under; 
And soon, in poppied warmth enfurled, 

I lost in sweet forgetting 
The clamors of the stirring world, 
Its labors and its fretting. 
As from the bud 
The chill-checked flood 
Of sap goes backward creeping, 
So falls this sense 
Of indolence 
When April skies are weeping. 

I woke in sunlight and arose. 

The joyful birds were chanting; 
A young girl in the neighboring close 

Was busy at her planting. 
I knew, as something erst unknown, 

The blessed charm of labor; 
I loved — ah ! not myself alone — 

I yearned to love my neighbor. 



MADRIGALI 65 

As from the trees 

The sun and breeze 
Their young leaves are beguiling, 

So from the heart 

Doth new life start 
When April skies are smiling. 



66 MADRIGALI 



T 



THE FALLEN TREE 

HERE was a tree in Wister Wood 
Last April's livery wore 
Of emerald leaf and crimson bud, 
But it is there no more. 



There, earliest, on twig and bough, 
I marked the spring's advance ; 

Of all who note its absence now 
I only care, perchance. 

Yet 'tis enough. For ne'er, for me, 

Shall any spring come in 
But all its trees shall lovelier be 

Because this one hath been. 

So may it be with me, whose blood 
Stirs ever when the spring 

Calls out to me from Wister Wood 
And bids me rise and sing. 



M A D R I G A L I 67 

Enough for me, if when I've gone 

The way of man and tree, 
Some spring be made more sweet for one, 

Through kindly thought of me. 



68 MADRIGALI 



DA FAITH OF AUNTA 
ROSA 

YOU know my Aunta Rosa ? No ? 
I weesha dat you could; 
She w'at you call "da leevin' saint," 

Baycause she ees so good. 
She got so greata, stronga faith, 

She don'ta nevva care 
For doin' anytheeng at all 

But justa say her prayer. 
She justa pray, an' pray, an' pray, 

An' work so hard at dat, 
You theenk she would be gattin' theen 

Eenstead for gat so fat. 
O ! my, she gat so verra fat, 

Da doctor ees so scare', 
He com' wan day to her an' say: 

"You mak' too moocha prayer; 
Ees better do som' udder work 

An' tak' som' exercise." 
My Aunta Rosa shak' her head 

An' justa leeft her eyes, 
An' say: "I gotta faith so strong 

Dat I weell jus' baygeen 




tU 






~^^^<s^ 



MADRIGALI 69 

For pray dat I may lose da fat, 

An' soon I weell be theen." 
So den she justa seet an' pray, 

So greata faith she feel, 
An' nevva stop for anytheeng — 

Excep' for taka meal. 
An' som' time, too, she seet an' mak' 

Da noise so loud an' deep; 
Eet sounda verra mooch as eef 

She prayin' een her sleep. 
So Aunta Rosa pray an' pray, 

But steell she gat more fat, 
So fat she no can walk at all — 

Now, w'at you theenka dat? 

Mus' be som' troubla een da sky; 

Mus' be ees som'theeng wrong! 
Baycause eef Aunta Rosa got 

Da faith so great an' strong, 
An' pray so hard dat eet ees all 

She gatta time to do, 
I like som'body tal me why 

Her prayer ees no com' true! 



7o MADRIGALI 



WAITING FOR THE TRAIN 

THE wood beyond the station thrills 
With glamor of the May; 
The thrush his matin music trills, 

A-swing upon his spray, 
And many things of beauty smile 

And call me out to play, 
Crying: "Tarry, O! tarry, 
For this one day." 

But Duty hath no pity! 
I am doomed to the city, 
And I hear the snorting demon that will 
carry me away. 

How slowly plods the little boy 

Upon the road to school. 
He yearns to taste a truant joy 

Where woodland depths are cool. 
He lifts his guilty eyes to mine ; 

I bid him run and play! 
Crying: "Hookey! Play hookey, 

For this one day!" 



MADRIGALI 71 

But, O ! for me the pity ! 
I am doomed to the city, 
And I hear the snorting demon that will 
carry me away. 



72 MADRIGALI 



PADRE'S PEENCHA SNUFF 

WHERE ees troubla — som' wan dead, 
Som' wan verra seeck een bed — 
Leetla Padre Angelo 
He ees dere bayfore you know. 
Beatsa — how you call? — "da deuce" 
How he eesa gat da news. 
He mus' smal eet een da air; 
Annyway, you find heem dere. 
An' da firsta theeng he do, 
Wen he hear da story through, 
"Povero!" he say — you know 

Dat'sa mean "eet's tough" — 
Den da Padre Angelo 

Taka peencKa snuff. 

Leetla Padre's boxa snuff 
Mus' be funny kinda stuff, 
Som'theeng dat he ainta use 
Only w'en dere's badda news. 
Mosta time dat we are meet 
He ain't nevva theenk of eet, 
But so soon he's comin' where 
Eesa troubla een da air, 



MADRIGALI 73 

An' he hear da tale of woe, 
He ees grab da boxa — so — 
Like he eesa feel he no 

Jus' can gat enough, 
Wen da Padre Angelo 

Taka peencha snuff. 

Den he gona cough like dees : 
"Hock-pachoo !" an* den he sneeze. 
Den he blow hees nose a while, 
Shak' hees olda head an' smile, 
Rub da water from hees eye, 
Looka queer an' say: "O, my! 
Nevva find dees snuff so strong; 
Mus' be here ees som'theeng wrong." 
So he shak' hees head an' den 
He ees rub hees eye agen. 
Som' time I am theenk, you know, 

Eet'sa justa bluff, 
Wen da Padre Angelo 

Taka peencha snuff. 



74 MADRIGALI 



THE SCOUTS OF SPRING 

THE child at the window turned away 
With a parting glance at the leaden 
skies, 
And the look in the depths of his wistful 
eyes 
Was hopeless and dull as they. 
So came the night down, cold and gray, 
When the hidden sun had set. * * * 

Cold as the ashes of yesterday 

The morning breaks, and yet — 
The scouts of Spring were abroad in the 
night. 

I heard them riding the rain. 
I knew the touch of their fingers light, 
As they swerved aside in their airy flight 

And tapped at the window-pane. 
They swarmed like bees in the outer gloom; 

I heard them whispering there, 
And I sensed them momently in the room 
When their breathing tinged with faint 
perfume 



MADRIGALI 75 

The slumber-heavy air. 
So hither and yon they danced and leapt; 
And over one pillow they softly crept 
And called to the wild, 
Young heart of the child, 
Till the little limbs stirred, and the thin 
lips smiled 
And he laughed aloud as he slept. 
But there came a change at the wane of the 
night, 
And down from the hill, 
Where they'd long lain still, 
The winds of Winter rode forth in their 

might. 
The Spring's outriders broke in flight, 
And up from the east rose the morning 

gray, 
Cold as the ashes of yesterday. 

"Wake!" cried the child beside my bed. 

"Come to the beechwood, Sleepyhead! 
Wonders await you there. See here, 
Snowdrops ! sweetest and first of the year; 

Wake! for the Spring is come," he said. 

Gray is the morning, gray and cold; 



76 MADRIGALI 

Ah ! but the depths of his shining eyes, 
Blue as the heart of the violet, hold 

Joy and the glory of summer skies, 
And their secrets manifold. 



MADRIGALI 77 



A SONG OF TONIO 

EET was an Irish Maggie 
Dat catch my hearta first, 
An' male' eet jomp eensida me 

So like eet gona burst. 
Dough een my breast was seengin' birds, 

My domba tongue was steell, 
Baycause I had not Anglaice words 

For tal her how I feel; 
She's gon', for dat I had not words 

For tal her how I feel. 

Now corn's Italian Rosa 

For mak' me love her more. 
Da leetla birds eensida me 

Seeng louder dan bayfore. 
But, O ! I am so sadda man ! 

My domba tongue ees steel; 
I have no words Italian 

For tal her how I feel; 
Not even words Italian 

For tal her how I feel. 



78 MADRIGALI 



THE WANDERING MIN- 
STREL 

OH ! ye wealthy folk, blessed with a 
heaped-over measure 
Of bodily comforts, of treasure and gold, 
If your souls have been stirred for one 
moment with pleasure 
By the catches I've sung or the jests I have 
told, 
O! I pray ye, take heed of 
What most I'm in need of 
And loosen the strings of the purses ye 
hold. 
Give the best that ye have 
For the best that I gave. 
For the gay Merry-Andrew you've seen me 

to-day 
O ! remember me, pray, 
With your gold. 

O ! ye poor of God, blessed with warm 
hearts ever throbbing 
With love for a fellow-man burdened with 
cares, 



MADRIGALI 79 

If ye sense the soul-hunger, the sorrowful 
sobbing, 
In his merriest jests, in his liveliest airs, 
Ye will know and take heed of 
What most he's in need of, 
Both here and hereafter, wherever he 
fares. 
For the sorrow he's known 
That is like to your own, 
When with tears of sweet pity your lashes 

are dim, 
Have remembrance of him 
In your prayers. 



8o MADRIGALI 



PARADISE REGAINED 

I'M a thing they call a "stevydore" — 
Though some has called me worse — 
An' I'm slavin' here along the shore 

To fill a skinny purse ; 
For it's little that the wages are, 

For all the counthry's free, 
An' my hopes o' fortune still are far 

As heaven is from me. 
Still, though far away it seems, 
There's a heaven in me dreams — 

Blessid paradise I had an' lost, but hope 
again to win — 
An' it calls me from the breeze 
That blows in acrost the seas 

Whin a ship comes in. 

"Sure, it's hell to be a stevydore," 

The lads beside me say; 
But it's purgatory an' no more, . 

Since some may win away. 
An' it's not forever that I'll slave 

Within a stuffy hold, 



MADRIGALI 81 

For the pennies that I make an' save 

Will turn at last to gold. 
O ! the heaven that I knew, 
Risin' green above the blue — 

Blessid paradise I had an' lost an' 
dreamed so much about — 
Tis mesel' wid joy will see 
On a day that's soon to be 

Whin a ship goes out. 



82 MADRIGALI 



APRIL 

APRIL, 
Irish through and through, 
Here's my caubeen off to you ! 
Look you ! now my head is bare, 
Drop your tears upon my hair. 
Weep your fill upon me, then 
Warm me with your sun again. 
Here's my heart. O! make its strings 
Populous with linnets' wings. 
So your holy birds are there 
Not a ha'porth do I care; 
Mute with sorrow, wild with glee, 
So they make their home in me. 

April, 
Dead, forgotten days 
Tremble in your dim blue haze; 
All the glories of the race 
Flicker on your mobile face. 
Heroes panoplied for fight 
Glimmer in your golden light; 



MADRTGALI 83 

Martyrs, sanctified by pain, 
Murmur in your silver rain. 
All your smiles and all your tears 
Voicing now our hopes and fears, 
April, Irish through and through, 
Here's my caubeen off to you ! 



84 MADRIGALI 



EASTER EVE 

A WORLD of sodden leaves and gaunt- 
limbed trees 
That stand as in a dream. Set in the skies 
The moon, like embers of a watch-fire, lies 
Half-quenched by mists breathed up from 

restless seas; 
And like a lion troubled in its sleep, 

The wind, high-cradled in the piney hills, 
By fits and starts with fretful moaning 
thrills 
The echoing air, and darkness rules the 
steep. 

And yet I know the sun will soon have kist 
With lip of fire the sky, so leaden-browed 

Behind the silvern gossamer of mist. 

I know the Easter sun that gilds the cloud 
Shall kiss God's robes where last it 
touched His shroud, 

And all my soul is eloquent of Christ. 



MADRIGALI 8< 



THE TEMPERAMENTAL 
TOMM ASSO 

TOMMASSO can have, eef he want, 
"Arteestica temperamant," 
But me, I am gladda for steeck 
To workin' weeth shovel an' peeck. 

You nevva can tal 

Verra wal 
Jus' w'en eet ees gona bust out — 
Dees theeng dat I'm talkin' about. 
Dees fallow Tommasso Barratt' 
He nevva have notheeng like dat 
Een all da long tima w'en he 
Ees deeg een da streeta weeth me. 
But all for a sudden wan day 
He throw down hees shovel an' say: 
"I gona be music-arteest! 
Too moocha good time I have meessed, 
An' so I gon' start righta 'way. 
I jus' can'ta halp eet. I must, 
Or som'theeng eenside me weell bust!" 



86 MADRIGALI 

An' so he ees study da art; 
But now dat he's ready for start — 
To-morrow, you see, ees da day 
He's gona baygeen for to play — 
Eet don't mak' heem happy wan beet. 
He no can be steell een hees seat, 
But tweest alia 'round een hees chair 
An' pull hees mustache an' hees hair. 
I say to heem: "Don'ta be scare'; 
Keep coola!" He tal me: "I can't! 
Arteestica temperamant 
Eensida me mak' me excite' 
For fear I no playa jus' right." 
I bat he no sleep mooch to-night. 
I no like hees shoes on my feet ! 
He mebbe weell faint on da street 
To-morrow, baycause he's excite' 
An' sure won'ta do da theeng right. 
You see, dees new musica-man 
He don't verra wal ondrastan' 
Da ways of da streeta-pian'. 

Tommasso can have, eef he want, 
"Arteestica temperamant," 
But me, I am gladda for steeck 
To workin' weeth shovel an' peeck. 



MADRIGALI 87 



THE BUTT O' THE 
LOAFERS 

OH ! they needn't be so sly, 
All them lads when I pass by, 
Wid their winkin' o' the eye 

An' their jokin' an' all that. 
Sure, I'm wise enough to see 
That the cause of all their glee 
Is the ancient cut o' me 
An' me ould high hat. 

Yerra ! boys will have their play, 
So I've not a word to say — 
'Tis mesel' that wanst was gay 

As the gayest wan o' you; 
An' there wasn't manny men 
That'd care to joke me then, 
When me blood was warm an' when 

This ould hat was new. 

It was wid me an' me bride 
When the blessid knot was tied, 
An' it follied, when she died, 

Where they soon will lay me, too. 



MADRIGALI 



It has served me all these years, 
Shared me pleasures and me tears — ■ 
As it's sharin' now the jeers 
O' the likes o' you ! 

Now, ould hat, we're worn an' sick, 
But 'tis joy to think, avic, 
That you never held a brick — 

An' there's some that can't say that ! 
So they needn't be so sly 
Wid their winkin' o' the eye 
When they see us passin' by, 

You an' me, ould hat! 



MADRIGALI 89 



A BALLADE OF BRIDES 

FOR brides who grace these passing days, 
The poets lyric garlands twine; 
For them the twittering song of praise 
Resounds with many a fulsome line. 
And unproved worth, as half divine, 
Is glorified in tinkling tunes. 

But worthier dames shall bless our wine — 
We'll toast the brides of other Junes ! 

What though a thoughtless public pays 

Its homage at young Beauty's shrine, 
And wreathes smooth brows with orange 
sprays, 

With roses and with eglantine, 

Youth's cheeks that glow and eyes that 
shine 
Are not the most enduring boons. 

O ! we who've seen such things decline., 
We'll toast the brides of other Junes ! 

Though flowery wreaths and poets' lays 

To grace the new-made bride combine, 
O ! let us rather twine the bays 



90 M A D R I G A L I 



For tried and true ones, thine and mine, 
Who share whate'er the fates design 

To bless or blight our nights and noons; 
Good comrades still through rain or 
shine — 

We'll toast the brides of other Junes! 

i/envoi 
Old Friend ! whose bride of Auld Lang Syne 

Still fills thy life with honeymoons, 
Thy glass to mine, my glass to thine 

We'll toast the brides of other Junes ! 



MADRIGALI 91 



DA GREATA BASABALL 

OH! greata game ees basaball 
For yo'nga 'Merican. 
But, O ! my f rand, ees not at all 
Da theeng for Dagoman. 

O ! lees'en, pleass', I tal to you 

About wan game we play 
Wen grass ees green, an' sky ees blue 

An' eet ees holiday. 
Spagatti say: "We taka treep 

For play da ball, an' see 
Wheech side ees ween da champasheep 

For Leetla Eetaly." 
So off for Polo Groun' we go 

Weeth basaball an' bat, 
An' start da greata game, but, O ! 

Eet ees no feenish yat! 
Spolatro ees da boss for side 

Dat wait for catch da ball; 
Spagatti nine ees first dat tried 

For knock eet over wall. 
An so Spagatti com' for bat. 

Aha ! da greata man ! 



92 M A D R I G A L I 

Da han's he got; so beeg, so fat, 

Ees like two bonch banan'. 
Spolatro peetch da ball, an' dere 

Spagatti's bat ees sweeng, 
An' queeck da ball up een da air 

Ees fly like annytheeng. 
You know een deesa game ees man 

Dat's call da "lafta-fielV 
Wal, dees wan keep peanutta-stan' 

An' like for seettin' steell. 
An' dough dees ball Spagatti heet 

Ees passa by hees way, 
He don'ta care a leetla beet 

Eef eet ees gon' all day. 
Da "centra-fielda man" — you know 

Dat's nex' to heem — he call: 
"Hi ! why you don'ta jompa, Joe, 

An' run an' gat da ball?" 
But Joe he justa seetta steell 

Teell ball ees outa sight. 
Dees mak' so mad da centra-fiel' 

He ees baygeen to fight. 
Den com'sa nudder man — you see, 

I don'ta know hees name, 



MADRIGALI 93 

Or how you call dees man, but he 

Ees beeg man een da game. 
He ees da man dat mak' da rule 

For play da gama right, 
An^ so he go for dose two fool 

Out een da fiel' dat fight. 
He push da centra-fielda 'way — 

An' soocha names he call! — 
An' den he grabba Joe an' say: 

"Com', run an' gat da ball." 
But Joe he growl an' tal heem: "No, 

Ees not for me at all. 
Spagatti heet da ball, an' so 

Spagatti gat da ball!" 

O ! greata game ees basaball 

For yo'nga 'Merican. 
But, O ! my f rand, ees not at all 

Da theeng for Dagoman. 



94 MADRIGAL! 



THE MAN'S THE MAN 

4 4*1 ^HE man's the man!" my Barney 
A says — 

An' Barney's newly married — 
u He's the wan that knows the ways 

The burdens should be carried. 
Let the woman wear the grace 

An' pleasin' pranks o' beauty, 
Yet be mindful of her place 

An' of her wifely duty; 
By the crown within my hat, 

The chief of all our riches, 
I'll be king o' this an' that; 

An' sure I'll wear the breeches; 
Yes, an' need be, I can teach 

The 'Spanish way' o' walkin' !" 
There's my Barney's manful speech — 

I listen to him talkin'. 

"The man's the man!" my Barney says, 
An', faith, my thoughts are carried 

Back to well-remembered days 
When I was newly married; 



MADRIGALI 95 

An' there's wan that's lookin' down 

Upon this house this minute, 
Knows who was it wore the crown 

The whiles herself was in it. 
Dull I was, but plain as day 

'Tis now I'm seein' through it 
How she let me have her way, 

An' sure I never knew it; 
Puffed wid pride as I could be 

An' struttin' 'round an' squawkin', 
"Man's the man!" sez I, an' she — 

She listened to me talkin'. 



96 MADRIGALI 



DA SUMMER'S COM'! 

OH ! my, I'm glad da summer's com' 
An' school-books ees put by; 
I do not like for show how domb 
Een evratheeng am I. 

Me go to school? I guessa not! 

But den you see, signor, I got 

Wan leetla son of mine dat go — 

Ah! smarta keed, Antonio! 

He mak' me proud, he ees so queeck; 

But som' time, too, eet mak' me seeck 

Weeth — how you call eet now? — weeth 

shame 
For dat I no can write my name. 

But I, too, I am smarta 'nough 
For looka wise an' maka bluff, 
An' so he ainta catch me yat; 
But he's so smarta keed, you bat 
He's gona see som' day bimeby 
How domb een evratheeng am I. 
I tal you w'at eet's pretta tough 
For always have to maka bluff, 



MADRIGALI 97 



To seet an' smoke an' be so near 
At night-time, w'en he eesa here 
Weeth all hees school-books, an' to fear 
Dat he weell ask som' theeng or two 
Dat gona mak' a fool of you. 

Wat would you say — I ask you, pleass— 
To soocha question lika dees 
Dat jus' bayfore hees schoola stop 
He aska me : "Hey ! tal me, Pop, 
W'en was eet came you Dagomans 
Deescoverin' us 'Mericans?" 

O ! my, I'm glad da summer's com' 
An' school-books ees put by; 

I do not like for show how domb 
Een evratheeng am I. 



98 MADRIGALI 



DA THIEF 

L^ EF poor man goes 
An' stealsa rose 

Een Juna-time — 
Wan leetla rose — 
You gon' su'pose 
Dat dat'sa crime? 

Eh I w'at ? Den taka look at me, 
For here bayfore your eyes you see 
Wan thief dat ees so glad an' proud 
He gona brag of eet out loud ! 
So moocha good I do, an' feel, 
From dat wan leetla rose I steal, 
Dat eef I gon' to jail to-day 
Dey no could tak' my joy away. 
So, lees'en ! here ees how eet com' : 
Las' night w'en I am walkin' home 
From work een hotta ceety street, 
Ees sudden com' a smal so sweet 
Eet maka heaven een my nose 



Ml 




MADRIGALI 99 

I look an' dere I see da rose ! 
Not wan, but manny, fine an' tall, 
Dat peep at me above da wall. 
So, too, I close my eyes an' find 
Anudder peecture een my mind; 
I see a house dat's small an' hot 
Where manny pretta theengs ees not, 
Where leetla woman, good an' true, 
Ees work so hard da whole day through, 
She's too wore out, w'en corn's da night, 
For smile an' mak' da housa bright. 

But, presto ! now I'm home an' she 
Ees seettin' on da step weeth me. 
Bambino, sleepin' on her breast, 
Ees nevva know more sweeta rest, 
An' nevva was sooch glad su'prise 
Like now ees shina from her eyes; 
An' all baycause to-night she wear 
Wan leetla rose stuck een her hair. 
She ees so please' ! Eet mak' me feel 
I shoulda sooner learned to steal ! 



ioo MADRIGALI 



Eef "thief's" my name 
I feel no shame ; 

Eet ees no crime — 
Dat rose I got. 
Eh! w'at? O! not 

Een Juna-time ! 



MADRIGAL! 101 



WHAT THE FLAG SINGS 

MY People ! ye who honor me, 
Upon this day that made ye free, 
And for your badge of liberty 

On high have set me, 
Hear what my breeze-tossed ripples say, 
Ere with the passing of this day 
I once again am put away 
And ye forget me: 

"In war begot, by war imbrued 
Baptismally with patriot blood, 
Triumphant, steadfast still, through good 

And evil omen, 
I've watched victorious Peace alight 
Upon the arms of Truth and Right, 
Which nevermore shall fear the might 

Of foreign foemen. 

"But, O! my people, help me preach 
Our gospel now, that we may teach 
Newcomers here of alien speech 

To know and love me. 
Teach that the cause for which I stand, 



102 MADRIGALI 

The liberty of this fair land, 
Will tolerate no Anarch brand 
To float above me. 

"Aye ! our own native faults lay bare! 
Point out the specious statesman's snare, 
Whose tongue would hide with shout and 
prayer 

His heart's sedition; 
Who lifts to me his crafty eyes 
And breathes abroad his soulful sighs, 
Which not from love of me arise, 

But low ambition. 

"O ! teach and learn! And when the sky 
This day's departing sunbeams dye, 
And from the staff whereon I fly 

At last ye take me, 
Remember what ye owe to me; 
I'm but your badge of liberty, 
And I no greater thing can be 

Than your deeds make me !" 

July 4> 1 91 2. 



MADRIGAL I 103 



BALLADE OF SUMMER'S 
PASSING 

LIKE a matron grown jaded — 
Fat, forty and fair — 
In a nook cool and shaded, 
Who nods in her chair; 
Then, sudden, aware 
Of the eyes of the masses, 

Feigns a wide-awake air, 
Summer smiles as she passes. 

All the charms she paraded 

In Junetime so rare, 
When new roses were braided 

And twined in her hair, 

No longer are there. 
All her gold but worn brass is, 

But, still debonair, 
Summer smiles as she passes. 

That her beauty is faded 

Beyond all repair, 
All the pools where she waded — 

Her mirrors — declare. 



io 4 MADRIGALI 



Brown limbs that are bare 
Every woodland pool glasses; 

But what does she care? 
Summer smiles as she passes. 

ENVOY 

Come, then, Autumn! and dare 
To be brave as this lass is, 

When the like fate you share — 
Summer smiles as she passes. 



MADRIGAL I 105 



SANCTUARY 

HERE where ees my beez'ness place 
You can com' so mooch you pleass, 
Call me "Dago" to my face, 

Joke weeth me an' sneer an' teass. 
You can say my fruit ees bad, 

Growla 'bout da prices, too, 
But I no can gatta mad; 

I mus' be polite weeth you. 
Streeta keeds so small, so tough, 

Steala theengs an' run so queeck, 
Here can treata me so rough 

Eet ees almos' mak' me seeck. 
But I know where ees a door 

Feexa weeth a lock an' key; 
Notheeng bother me no more 

Wen at night eet close on me. 

O ! so happy, happy door ! 

I su'pose you got wan, too, 
More for styleeshness an' more 

Fine an' gran' eet ees for you. 
But w'en I seet down at night, 

All bust up from work all day, 



o6 MADRIGALI 

All dat maka me excite' 

Seem so verra far away, 
I can mak' mysal' baylieve 

I am good as anny man. 
Notheeng den can mak' me grieve 

Like at dees peanutta-stan'. 
Peace ees com' eenside my door; 

Push eet shut an' turn de key, 
An' I am a man once more 

Wen at night eet close on me. 



MADRIGALI 107 



SHAWN BHUI O'CONNOR 

FROM the glens an' airy peaks 
Of McGillicuddy's Reeks, 

Shawn Bhui O'Connor 
Draws the raw delights o' life. 
Snare an' gun an' huntin'-knife 
Are his all, for ne'er a wife 

Wears his name upon her. 
Just his native hills alone 
An' his wild sweet will can own 

Shawn Bhui O'Connor. 

Save for powder an' for shot, 

Village streets would know him not — 

Shawn Bhui O'Connor. 
But the priest o' Ballymore 
Often finds beside his door 
Tribute for his frugal store, 

Knowing well the donor; 
An' for gift o' grouse an' hare 
Oft repays with kindly prayer 

Shawn Bhui O'Connor. 



io8 MADRIGALI 



Mighty hunter, yet a child, 
Shaggy nurslin' o' the wild — 

Shawn Bhui O'Connor. 
Relic o' the primal man 
Ere the Saxon race began; 
Erin's lord an' sacristan 

Of her virgin honor, 
May the peace o' God's free air 
Keep you ever in its care, 

Shawn Bhui O'Connor! 

Shawn Bhui — Yellow John. 



MADRIGALI 109 



AN ITALIAN LESSON 

EEF you would be, O! 'Merican, 
1 Wise Dagoman like me 
An' call een good Italian 

Da names for theengs you see, 
Com', lees'en! an' I tal you true 
How easy theeng eet ees to do. 
For firsta lesson, now, su'pose 
We taka som'theeng sweet; 
Dere eesa flower you calla "rose," 

But w'at's my name for eet? 
I mak' eet verra plain to you, 
For here ees all you gotta do : 

Say "Angela!" jus' "Angela!" 
An' eef you catcha sight 
Of pretta face an' shinin' eyes 
Dat smila like Italia's skies, 
You bat my life you weell be wise 
An' justa wheesper "Angela !" 
An' sure you weell be right. 

Eef you would know Italian 
For sweeta theengs you hear, 



no MADRIGALI 

Here's wise Italian teacher-man 

Dat mak' eet plain an' clear. 
Com', lees'en ! an' I tal you true 
How easy theeng eet ees to do. 

Dere eesa bird dat seeng so sweet — • 
No sweeter song could be. 

"Thrush" ees da word you say for eet? 
Dat's not da word for me. 

You like to know Italian word 

I speaka for dees songa-bird? 

Say "Angela !" jus' "Angela!" 
An' eef so be you might 
Have happiness for standin' near 
Wen sounds wan voice so sweet an' clear 
You theenk eet ees a thrush you hear, 
Say "Angela!" jus' "Angela!" 
An' sure you weell be right. 



MADRIGALI in 



ARTFUL YOUNG BARNEY 

KEHOE 

WILL ye be for the Gap o' Dunloe, 
I dunno? 

O! I'm glad o' that same! 

All the tourists think shame 
To be missin' the Gap o' Dunloe — 
They do so. 

Now, then, whishper! Mayhap, 

When ye come on the Gap, 

Ye'll be seein' a lass 

On this side o' the pass 

That'll ax for the toll. 

She's a dacint good soul, 

Though the eyes of her twinkle so droll. 

Well, ye'll pay her the tax 

An' ye'll wink an' ye'll ax : 
"Would ye marry young Barney Kehoe?" — 

'Tis a bit of a joke 

That the folk love to poke 
At the lass o' the Gap o' Dunloe. 

An' it's where, whin ye've done wid Dunloe, 
Will ye go? 



H2 MADRIGALI 



Ye'll be wise to come back 
By this very same thrack, 
Fur there's little that's back o' Dunloe— 
There is so. 
Sure, the hills are so bare 
There's no scenery there 
Like the kind that ye find 
On this side, d'ye mind? 
So I'll watch for the day 
Whin ye're passin' this way, 
Jist to hear what the lass had to say, 
Whin she made her reply 
To the wink o' yer eye 
An' yer joke at the Gap o' Dunloe— 

Is it who may I be? 
Ye'll find me, d'ye see, 
If ye'll ax for young Barney Kehoe. 



MADRIGALI 113 



LEIGH WOODS NEAR 
BRISTOL TOWN 

LEIGH Woods! and but a thought's 
flight from the ocean! 
Seemed time and space between 
As though they had not been; 
As though a wave of mine own soul's 

emotion, 
O'erwhelming my dazed senses in the smoke 
And thunder of its cresting, here had broke 
And cast me up beneath this English oak. 
Behind me lay the Avon-riven towns, 
Clouding with busy fires the autumn morn- 
ing; 
But, O! the light of old romance adorning 
Leigh Woods and Durdham Downs! 

An English wood ! Not here, were mine the 
choosing, 
Would my foot first have trod 
The Old World's storied sod; 
For here should rise ancestral wrongs, 
transfusing 



ii 4 MADRIGALI 

Into my blood their heart-sepulchred teen. 
Yet here were flow'ring fields and woods 

as green, 
Mayhap, as those wherein I would have 

been; 
And leafy lanes as thronged with twinkling 

wings. 
The birds were singing here, not piping 

merely, 
Green-cloistered choirs intoning sweetly, 

clearly, 
Of love, the crown of things. 

Old passions melted in the holier fire 
Of Nature's motherhood; 
And o'er that English wood, 
On finer air my soul soared high and higher. 
Trees, rocks, all senseless objects, great 

and small, 
All living things that walk or fly or 

crawl — 
Atoms of earth — I saw and loved them 
all! 
Aye ! rose I even to Heav'n's own parapet, 
On the strong wings of that unbridled 
rapture 



MADRIGALI 115 

Which, knowing once, I never shall re- 
capture — 
But can no more forget. 

O ! could I catch again and hold forever 
The ecstasy, the power, 
Of that one fleeting hour, 
Peace and the soul should never more 

dissever. 
Forever through God's ether to be swirled, 
And momently see Heaven's blue veils un- 
furled, 
My song a silvern trumpet to the world! 
Leigh Woods ! could I revive your spell 
again, 
My soul would chant such music to the spirit, 
The Jist'ning world, that could not choose 
but hear it, 
Would thrill as I did then. 

Bristol, England, September 22, 19 10. 



n6 MADRIGALI 



CHATTERTON 

4 4/^" RIM humorist!" I'd write upon his 
vJ stone ; 

"Great poet? Aye, but still a child of wit, 
And martyr to his judges' lack of it. 
When first his mimic mintings rare were 

shown, 
Befooled, they praised them, but, the fraud 
made known, 
They spurned his Rowley coinage, bit by 

bit. 
'No silver this,' they cried, 'but counter- 
feit!' 
Not seeing it was gold and all his own. 

"Oh! dear deceiver, child of mystery! 

How well to the last hour he played the 
game, 
And falsely strong in his adversity, 

Hid his young honor in a cloud of shame. 
And last, the play's meet epilogue we see : 

Death — but dissembled by undying fame !" 

Bristol, England, September, 1910. 



MADRIGALI 117 



KERRY UNVISITED 

FAIR was the sky and calm the sea, 
Aye, calmer than this bosom, 
When first upon my vision broke 

The Skelligs, wild and gruesome. 
As slow the rugged coast-line rose 

Above the sunlit ocean, 
O ! bitter was the fight I waged 

To still my heart's commotion. 
Scion of exiles, home again ! 

Each rock and tree and steeple 
Encircled by my eager glass 

Brought greetings from my people. 
My kindly shipmates little guessed — 

So gay I seemed and merry — 
What tears were bubbling in my breast 

For the holy hills of Kerry. 

So all day long I kept the deck, 

And fed my soul with gazing 
On cliffs and bays and over all 

The hills their green crowns raising. 
When through the dusk the ship sailed on 

And found her English haven, 



n8 MADRIGALI 

At dawn, where Bristol Channel takes 

The waters of the Avon, 
To me the Saxon tyrants came, 

But kindlier than the olden, 
And loaded me with captive chains. 

Though here those chains were golden, 
And royal hospitality 

Made every moment merry, 
My heart was where my people lie 

Among the hills of Kerry! 
******** 

O ! calm again were sea and sky. 

The good ship, homeward turning, 
Bore with her one whose heart was sore 

With unrequited yearning. 
Again I watched the Kerry coast, 

Behind our white wake falling; 
The Sidhe were on those fading hills! 

I know; I heard them calling. 
Then rose the answering sea in wrath, 

The sky grew gray above it, 
The storm broke and the shuddering ship 

Quaked in the clutches of it. ' 
And like the Ancient Mariner, 

Whose sin no seas could bury, 
I knew what spirits shook our keel — 

The wild, wild Sidhe of Kerry! 



MADRIGALI 119 

Laugh not to scorn this tale of mine 

As some wild dreamer's notion; 
I read reproach in every thing 

That tracked me o'er the ocean. 
The angry sea that snatched at me, 

The winds at night that jeered me, 
The very gull that screamed o'erhead 

And fled as though it feared me; 
I was the plague upon the ship 

That made her groan and shiver 
Through toil of seven days and nights 

To reach this peaceful river. 
So now I swear: No more for me 

The ocean-girdling ferry; 
No more for me, unless it be 

To tread the hills of Kerry! 

SS. "Royal Edward," approaching Montreal, October 6, 1910 
Sidhe (pronounced "Shee") — the Fairies. 



120 MADRIGALI 



MR. HAIL COLO MB' 

IRISH, Anglaice, Dootchman, Jew, 
W'at'sa matter weetha you? 
Why you no keep holiday, 
Wave da flag an' shout "Hooray"? 
Why you laugh an' weenk your eye 
W'en da beeg parade go by? 
Ain't you glad for anytheeng 
W'en da leetla cheeldren seeng? 
Lika me you oughta be 
Glad for granda liberty 
Dat you all are gattin' from 
Hail Colomb'. 

Can eet be you are so domb 
You don't know dees "Hail Colomb' "? 
He ees Dago sailorman 
Firsta find dees greata Ian'. 
Poor he was, but, O! rejoice, 
Tak' your hat off, leeft your voice, 
Maka prayer of thanks baycause 
Dere's no Eemigration laws, . 
Dere's no Ellis Island w'en 
Weeth hees ragged sailormen 
First to deesa shores ees com' 
Hail Colomb'. 



MADRIGALI 121 



OCTOBER SONG IN 
ROMANY 



M 



OTHER and wife to me, 
Fostering Earth! 
Sum of all life to me, 
Birth to rebirth; 
Mother, at urge of the sun-god who bore me, 
Wife, whose cool bosom at last shall swell 
o'er me, 
Ever and ever my heart shall be thine. 
Ah! but one season brings thy heart the 

nearest, 
When to my loving thy bosom thou barest. 
Then thou art mine. 

Summer brings many men 

Singing thy praise, 
But are there any when 
Chill are the days? 
Nov/, when thy robes are but tatters and 

patches, 
Sport of the winds in the bitter night watches, 
Stronger and truer my heart beats to thine. 



122 MADRIGALI 

My breast to thine and the deep sky our 

cover, 
Quiet and peace for the loved and the 
lover — 
Now thou art mine! 



^,... 







MADRIGALI 123 



THE MAGIC APPLE 

< 4 A THING of beauty is a joy forever." 
**> Though years becloud it, never 
may they sever 
Its lovely essence utterly from earth; 
Never a joy was born but hath rebirth. 
There was a sunset lost, long, long ago, 
An autumn sunset seen through orchard 
boughs. 
A boy's eye brightening in the amber glow 
Gave to his mind no more of it to house 
For the delight of manhood's pensive days 
Than the bare memory of time and place; 
So nigh forgot, it seemed 
As something he had dreamed. 
Yet now the man, before whose boyish ken 
The glory melted on the evening breeze, 
Knows it lived on, for he hath found again 
His long-lost sunset of the orchard trees. 

A penny tribute to a swarthy vendor 
Hath filled for me this city street with 

splendor. 
A meagre apple! yet its crushed pulp drips 
A long-forgotten savor on my lips, 



i24 MADRIGALI 



A rare, faint essence tasted once before, 

But only once ; and suddenly I find 
The honeyed gush hath loosed a long- 
locked door, 
And all the olden splendor floods my mind. 
A care-free lad I stand, 
An apple in my hand, 
And watch the amber glory grow and wane. 
I feel upon my cheek the evening breeze. 
Joy lives forever! I have found again 
My long-lost sunset of the orchard trees ! 



MADRIGALI 12 



A SONG TO GIULIA 

DERE ees a tree een Mad'son Square 
Dat stan' bayfore me now; 
An' he ees old an' tweest' an' bare, 

Weeth holes een trunk an' bough. 
He stan' so ogly an' alone, 

Dees good-for-notheeng tree, 
He could be brother of my own, 
He ees so lika me. 

See now dat tree een Mad'son Square 

Wen blows da weentra storm ! 
So manny leetla birds are dere 

Eenside hees heart so warm. 
Now he ees proud, dat ogly tree, 

An' strong and happy, too. 
Ah! so da heart eensida me 

Dat warm my thoughts of you ! 



126 MADRIGALI 



THE TIDES OF LOVE 

FLO was fond of Ebenezer — 
"Eb," for short, she called her beau. 
Talk of tides of Love, great Caesar! 
You should see them — Eb and Flo. 



MADRIGALI 127 



WHEN DORANDO BEAT 
HAYES 

YOU theenk eet strange for dat I am 
So meek, so quiet lika lamb, 
Eenstead for brag a leetla beet 
About da greata granda feat 
Of leetla Dagoman dat ran 
An' beat so bad da Irishman? 
Of course, signor, eet eesa true 
I like to say a word or two. 
But w'at'sa use? Een deesa Ian' 
Dere ees so manny Irishman 
Dat ees so queeck for gat excite' 
An' alia tima wanta fight, 
I notta care for show da pride 
An' joy my heart ees feel eenside. 
Dorando ees so strong, so gran', 
He need no be afraid for stan' 
Een front of manny Irishman 
An' brag a leetla beet, an' tal 
How slow dey are; but I, mysal', 
I no can run so verra wal. 



128 MADRIGALI 



THE ABSENT-MINDED SHE 

SHE called me "Jack!" But instantly 
She blushed as red as red could be, 
And bit her lip, as if to show 
She meant not to have spoken so ; 
All which I was not slow to see. 

'Twas something of a shock to me; 
I felt no very great degree 
Of palpitating joy, although 
She called me "Jack." 

It was, indeed, a mystery 
Until I thought of John Supplee. 

Was he her "Jack," I'd like to know? 

You see, my given name is "Joe." 
The absent-minded, fickle She — 

She called me "Jack!" 



MADRIGALI 129 



WAT'S A "NORAYSUICIDE?" 

IRISH Padre Tommeeckbride 
Laugh so mooch an' hold hees side, 
I no mak' heem ondrastan', 
Dough I talk so good's I can, 
Wen to-day I go for see 
Eef he pleassa marry me. 
Den he call me soocha name 
Eet ees maka me ashame'. 

"Pleassa, Padre" — so I speak — 
"I want marry nexta week." 
u So?" he look at me an' say, 
"You be bapatiza, eh?" 
"No," I say, "you are meestak'; 
Weddin's w'at I want you mak'." 
Steell how mooch I am esplain 
I no gat eet een hees brain. 
Alia time he justa cries : 
"Where an' w'en you bapatize?" 

Den my Rosa's brothra Joe — 
He ees weetha me, you know, 



130 MADRIGALI 

An' ees smart as he can be — 
He ees wheespera to me. 
"Oh!" I say, for now ees plain 
Mebbe so w'at Padre mean, 
"First we want da weddin' here; 
Bapatisma nexta year!" 
Den da Padre laugh an' say: 
"Noraysuicida, eh?" 

Why you laugha? Dat'sa shame, 
Callin' poor man soocha name! 
Why ees Padre Tommeeckbride 
Call me "Noraysuicide"? 



MADRIGALI 131 



DA NO-GOOD WORKAMAN 

I AM ashame' weeth deesa man 
For dat he ees Italian, 
An' justa lazy slob; 
We no could mak' good 'Merican 
Of Joe Marelli from Milan — 
An' so he lose hees job. 

Las' mont' w'en he ees landin' here, 

He feel so strange an' look so queer, 

I'm sad for heem as I can be 

An' gat heem job for work weeth me 

For deeg da tranch een deesa street. 

At first he's verra glad for eet, 

But steell eet ees no verra long 

Bayfore he eesa gona wrong. 

At evra stranja sight an' sound 

He drop hees peeck an' looka 'round. 

Eef mebbe so a sparrow hop 

Near where he work eet mak' heem stop 

So, too, he watch eef on da street 

Som' cheeldran com' weeth dancin' feet; 

An' som'time w'en from far away 

He hear da banda moosic play, 



132 MADRIGALI 

He stan' weeth head on wanna side 

An' ears an' moutha open wide. 

Wan time w'en breeze dat sweep da street 

Breeng newsapaper to hees feet, 

He tak' an' try for readin' eet! 

But theeng dat tak' hees job away 
Ees dees dat happen yestaday: 
Som' lady drop from passin' car, 
Right een da streeta where we are, 
Beeg boncha flower dat's halfa dead, 
But pretta, yallow, white an' red — 
You know dees flower weeth bushy head? 
Chreesanthew'at? Ah! yes, dat's eet — 
Wal, Joe he see dem een da street 
An' run an' grab dem uppa queeck, 
An' den he tak' dem back an' steeck 
Dem up on top da dirta pile, 
An' lay dem out een soocha style 
An' feex dem weeth so fina care, 
You theenk for sure dey growin' dere ! 
An' pretta soon dey catch da eye 
Of evra wan dat's passin' by. 
Eh? Sure dey looka pretta so, 
But seence eet ees no work, you know, 
Da boss raise som'theeng alse for Joe ! 



*^. 




MADRIGALI 133 

So I am 'shame' weeth deesa man 
For dat he ees Italian, 

An' soocha lazy slob; 
We no could mak' good 'Merican 
Of Toe Marelli from Milan — 

An' so he lose hees job. 



134 MADRIGAL I 



OCH! 

OCH ! the year is gettin' gray, 
Like a man that's had his day, 
Waitin', jisht, to fade away 
An' none to pity. 
Och ! the way the winds do blow ! 
Little ease o' them ye'll know, 
Whether in the fields ye go 
Or in the city. 

Och ! how fasht the leaves do fall ! 
Reekin' fires an' smoky pall — 
Och ! 'tis like a funeral, 

So cold an' sober. 
Och ! the stillness ev'rywhere ! 
Och! there's witches in the air! 
Och! the smell o' death that's there! 

Och ! Och-tober I 



MADRIGALI 135 



THE GOLDEN GIRL 



RED hair! 
Isn't it quare? 



Once on a time I'd do nothin' but jeer at it. 

Now, faith, 

Look at me teeth, 
See how I show them an' growl when you 
sneer at it. 

Brown eyes? 

"Muddy wid lies," 
"Dull an' deceitful," I once was decidin' 
them; 

But — whack ! — 

Yours will go black 
Under me fist now, if you'd be deridin' them. 

What's more, 

Freckles galore 
Made a complexion the worst I could deem 
of it; 

But now — 

You must allow 
They give a touch o' pure gold to cream of it. 



136 MADRIGALI 

Some girls 

Flaunt the red curls, 
But it is blue eyes inundher that gaze at ye; 

Some own 

Freckles alone — 
Let them be oglin' as much as they pl'ase 
at ye. 

One charm 

Needn't alarm; 
Fear not the lass who is only unfoldin' one; 

But she 

Blessed wid all three — 
Like my own Nora — Och ! She is the golden 
one 



MADRIGALI 137 



LABOR'S SABBATH 

LET this, Labor's Sabbath-day, 
Be a day of pleasure. 
Toll no bells and nothing play 

But a jolly measure. 
Labor's very self is prayer, 

Serious and holy; 
So its holiday should wear 
Naught of melancholy. 

Sure, no temple walls should irk 

Labor's gala spirit, 
Whose least sounds of daily work 

Soar to Heaven or near it. 
We could build no fitting fane 

Dedicate to Labor, 
Till the World shall learn again 

Love of God and neighbor; 
As, of old, the pure of heart 

(You have heard the story) 
Reared Cathedral walls at Chartres, 

Still its greatest glory. 
Prince and peasant, belle and wench, 

Toiling in all weather, 



138 MADRIGALI 



Hauled the stone and dug the trench, 

Praising God together. 
Those who set their hates aside 

Only were selected ; 
And who would not were denied 

And their gifts rejected. 
Love endureth over art, 

Art is transitory, 
But the twain combined at Chartres 

Blossomed into glory. 
Till the World shall strive again 

Thus for God and neighbor, 
We shall rear no fitting fane 

Dedicate to Labor. 

So let Labor's Sabbath-day 

Be a day of pleasure. 
Toll no bells and nothing play 

But a jolly measure. 
Labor's very self is prayer, 

Serious and holy; 
So its holiday should wear 

Naught of melancholy. 



MA.DRIGALI 139 



A CHILD'S CHRISTMAS 
SONG 

LORD, I'm just a little boy, 
Born one day like You, 
And I've got a mother dear 

And a birthday, too. 
But my birthday comes in spring, 

When the days are long, 
And the robin in the tree 

Wakens me with song. 
Since the birds are all away, 

Lord, when You are born, 
Let Your angels waken me 

On Your birthday morn. 

Lord, I'm just a little boy, 

Hidden in the night; 
Let Your angels spy me out 

Long before it's light. 
I would be the first to wake 

And the first to raise 
In this quiet house of ours 

Songs of love and praise. 



140 MADRIGALI 



You shall hear me first, dear Lord, 
Blow my Christmas horn; 

Let Your angels waken me 
On Your birthday morn. 



MADRIGALI 141 



UNDER THE HOLLY 

i {HHHIS is not the mistletoe ; 

i. It is merely holly. 
You've no right to kiss me so ; 
This is not the mistletoe, 
That has berries white as snow; 

These are red," said Molly. 
"This is not the mistletoe, 

It is merely holly." 

"This must be the mistletoe, 
Though it looks like holly, 

Though the berry's red," said Joe, 

"This must be the mistletoe. 

Every berry's blushed to know 
'Twas not fair as Molly. 

This must be the mistletoe, 
Though it looks like holly." 



142 MADRIGALI 



A CHRISTMAS CAROL 

THERE was a Star whose light, 
Mystical and holy, 
Shone through the quiet night 

O'er a stable lowly. 
Sing praise to God on high ! 

And rejoice that He 
Thus should beatify 
Humble poverty. 

A Merrie Christmas, Gentlefolk! 

And may your wealth and pride 
Be mindful of the humble ones 

This blessed Christmastide. 

There was a Little Child, 

Innocent and holy, 
Born of the Virgin mild 

In that stable lowly. 
Sing praise to God, who gave 

Unto you and me 
Such Gift our souls to save ! 

Oh! the Charity! 



MADRIGALI 143 



A Merrie Christmas, Gentlefolk! 

And may your wealth and pride 
Be mindful of the humble ones 

This blessed Christmastide. 



144 M A D R I G A L I 



DA COLDA FEET 

DA beggarman across da way 
Ees happy as can be; 
He laugh an' weenk baycause he theenk 
He gotta joke on me. 

O ! my ! O ! my ! how cold eet ees 

For stan' on deesa street! 
Da weends blow like dey gona freeze 

Da shoes upon your feet. 
I nevva see een deesa town 

So fierce da weentra storm; 
I keepa hoppin' up an' down 

For mak' my feeta warm. 
But beggarman across da way 

He stan' against da wall, 
So like eet was a summer day; 

He ees no cold at all. 
Ees justa box een fronta heem 

For hold hees teenna cup,- 
But he bayhava so eet seem 

A stove for warm heem up. 
An' evra time he look an' see 

How colda man am I, 



MADRIGALI 145 

He justa weenk an' laugh at me 

So like he gona die ! 
An' so I leave dees fruita stan' 

An' walka 'cross da street 
For see how ees dees beggarman 

Can keep so warma feet. 
I look, an' dere I see da legs 

Dat prop heem by da wall 
Ees notheeng more dan wooden pegs — 

He got no feet at all ! 

Eef colda feet should mak' you swear 

An' growl so bad as me, 
I bat your life you would no care 

So mooch eef you could see 
Da beggarman across da way, 

So happy as can be, 
Dat laugh an' weenk baycause he theenk 

He gotta joke on me! 



146 MADRIGALI 



SONG OF THE CHRIST- 
MAS TREE 

ONCE out of midnight sweet with 
mystery 
The wonder of all wonders came to be; 
So shall the dawn a marvel make of me. 
For when in all my beauty I am born 
In the first glimmer of the Christmas morn, 
Angels of innocence in mortal guise 
Shall look upon me with their faith-big eyes; 
And, looking, see 
A greater thing in me 
Than the bare figure of a tree. 
Behold ! in every limb 
I thrill with praise of Him 
For whom I stand in memory. 

Kings of the East and wise men three there 

were 
Who brought to Him rare frankincense and 

myrrh. 
So do my balsamed branches when they stir 
In the warm airs that move about this room, 
And render forth their homage in perfume. 



MADRIGAL I 147 

Lift up your hearts anew, O ! care-worn 

men, 
Look up with glad, believing eyes again; 
And, looking, see 
A greater thing in me 
Than the bare figure of a tree. 
Behold ! in every limb 
I thrill with praise of Him 
For whom I stand in memory. 



48 MADRIGALI 



DA POLEETICA BOSS 

GIUSEPPE Baratta ees great politeesh'; 
He w'at you call "Dago poleetica 
boss." 
He peeck da best man for da Pres'dant 
poseesh', 
An' show how you vote jus' by maka da 
cross. 
He say: "Nevva minda w'at som'body tal 
Wat dees man or dat man ees goin' do 
for you. 
You no ondrastan' deesa theeng verra wal, 
So jus' wait an' see w'at I tal you to do." 

Giuseppe he study an' theenk an' he work 
So hard for deescovra w'eech side eesa 
best, 
Ees nobody else een da ceety Noo York 

So theen like he gat an' so needa da rest. 
Ees holes een hees shoe where da toes ees 
steeck through; 
Hees clo'es dey are look jus' so bad as 
dey can. 



MADRIGAL I 149 

He say: "Eet ees harda for know w'at to 
do— 
I guess we weell vote for da Democrat 



But steell he work hard for be sure he ees 
right, 
An' study som' more; an' so — presto! — 
wan day, 
He com' weetha face ees so shiny an' bright, 
I see dat at las' he ees find da right way. 
He gotta new shoes an' new pants an' new 
coat 
An' looka so styleesh an' fine as he can. 
He say: "Ees meestak' ! We gon' chanja 
dat vote. 
Ees besta for vote for Republica man." 

Giuseppe Baratta ees great politeesh' ; 

Hees heart ees so true an' hees brain ees 
so bright, 
He work an' he study, baycause he no weesh 
For mak' up hees mind teell he sure he 
ees right. 



150 MADRIGALI 



THOUGHTS OF ROSA 

EEF only flow'rs dalight your eye 
An' museeck please your ear, 
Baycause dey male' you theenk an' sigh 

For her you lova dear, 
Ees mebbe so da girl you trace 

Een soocha softa theeng, 
Ees only pretta een da face 
Or gotta voice to seeng. 

But, O! da wife I gona gat 
She ees so fine an' strong an' fat! 
You nevva could su'posa 
How mooch I meet 
Een ceety street 
Dat mak' me theenk of Rosa. 

I nevva see da horse so strong 

Dat pull an' worka so, 
I nevva hear da louda song 

Dat steama-wheestles blow — 
All theengs een deesa beezy worP 

Dat nevva stop for rest — 
Weethouta theenkin' of da girl 

Dat I am love da best. 



MADRIGALI 151 

For, O ! da wife I gona gat 
She ees so fine an' strong an' fat! 
You nevva could su'posa 

How mooch I meet 

Een ceety street 
Dat mak' me theenk of Rosa. 



152 MADRIGALI 



OULD MATT'EW MORAN 

*</^\CH! 'tis he that looks natural, layin' 
^^ there dead," 
Said ould Matt'ew Moran, 
"Wid the palms at his feet an' the lights at 
his head 
An' the cross in his han'. 
Heart an' soul are at rest, 
An' it's all for the best," 
Said ould Matt'ew Moran. 

When he'd laid by his coat an' had hung up 

his hat, 
An' had shuffled away to a corner an' sat 
Wid his stick twixt his knees an' his han's on 

the crook, 
'Twas himsel', an' no less, had the "natural 

look." 
For the folk o' the parish were wont to 

declare 
Ne'er a wake a success unless Matt'ew was 

there. 



MADRTGALI 153 

" 'Tis a sorrowful world," he leaned over 

an' said 
To the man by his side, wid a shake of his 

head; 
"There's so much in it now that's deceitful 

an' wrong, 
'Tis a blessin' our fri'nd here was took 

while he's young." 
"He was siventy-five lasht July," said the 

man, 
"An' I doubt if ye're more than that, 

Misther Moran." 
Wid a tap o' the end of his stick on the floor, 
"Sure, a man is as ould as he feels — an' no 

more!" 
Said ould Matt'ew Moran. 

"Och! the breed o' men found in these days ! 

'Tis a crime ! 
Sure, they're not the strong stuff that was 

raised in my time. 
Who's the nixt wan to go ? If ye'll jisht look 

around, 



154 MADRIGALI 

Ye'll find manny a sickly wan here, I'll be 

bound. 
There's no life in thim now like the lads in 

my day." 
So he sat in his chair an' jisht muttered away, 
While the neighbors came in an' passed out 

o' the door 
In a stiddy procession. Ten minyits or more 
Since the ould man had spoken, the man by 

his side 
Found him sittin', asleep, wid his mouth open 

wide. 
Undisthurbed in his corner they let him 

dream on 
Till the lasht o' the neighborly mourners 

was gone. 
"I've been noddin'," sez he, as he rose to 

his feet; 
u Och! the houses these days are jisht 

murthered wid heat," 
Growled ould Matt'ew Moran. 

"There's so much in the world that's deceit- 
ful an' wrong," 
Said ould Matt'ew Moran, 



MADRIGALI 155 

" Tis a blessin' indeed to be took whin ye're 
young, 
Like that dacint young man. 
Well, there's wan gone to rest, 
An' it's all for the best," 
Said ould Matt'ew Moran. 



156 MADRIGALI 



IL GRILLO 

YOU like to go to Italy, 
You weesh for veesit Roma? 
All right, you com' an' seet weeth me 

To-night w'en I am homa. 
Dough mebbe so da weentra storm 

Outside ees nevva quiet, 
Da keetchen fire weell be warm 

While we are seettin' by it; 
An' eef so be you close your eyes 

You easy can pretanda 
You are beneath da sunny skies 

Dat smile upon my landa. 
An' pretta soon, so sweet, so clear, 

W'en evratheeng ees steel, O ! 
W'at pretta song ees dees you hear? 

II grillo, O ! il grillo ! 

Ha ! nevva mind da snow, 
An' how da weend ees blow: 

"Hoo-woo ! hoo-woo! hoo-wee!" 
For here eet's warm, an', O! 
II grillo seenga so : 

"Cher-ree! cher-ree! cher-ree!" 



MADRIGALI 157 

How corn's he to dees colda clime 

To seeng so far from homa? 
I catch heem manny, manny time 

Wen I am boy een Roma. 
I catch heem een da fields an' tak' 

Heem back eento da ceety, 
Where reecha peopla try to mak' 

Deir gardens fine an' pritty. 
Dey are so glad for hear heem seeng 

Dey no can gat too manny, 
An' so for evra wan I breeng 

Dey geeva me a penny. 
Dough here hees song ees justa same, 

Hees name I no can speak eet — 
Eh? w'at you call hees Anglaice name? 

Ah! "creecket," yes, "da creecket." 

'Sh! nevva mind da snow, 
An' how da weend ees blow: 

"Hoo-woo ! hoo-woo ! hoo-wee!" 
For here eet's warm, an', O ! 
II grillo seenga so : 

"Cher-ree! cher-ree ! cher-ree ! f ' 



158 MADRIGALI 



THE ONE THING LACKING 

OH ! my, signor, eet eesa true 
Dere's jus' wan theeng I envy you; 
Eef I was borna 'Merican, 
I sure would be da happy man. 

You see, dere ees a girl I know 
Dat's name' Bianca D'Angelo; 
Italian, of course, but she 
Com' verra yo'ng from Italy. 
She's pretta girl an' verra bright, 
An' she can speak an' read an' write 
Dees Anglaice jus' so good as you; 
An' alia time she's crazy, too, 
For readin' books dat tal you of 
All kinda peopla makin' love; 
An' som'times I am workin' near 
An' justa can'ta halp but hear. 
Wal, w'en she's readin' so wan day, 
She stop an' looka far away,' 
Den to da girl nex' door she say: 
"Da man I gona love mus' be 
Da handsomest I evva see. 
He mus' be brave an' fulla fun, 



MADRIGALI 159 

Yat strong for maka playnta mon'; 
An' he mus' have good disposeesh' 
An' geeve me evratheeng I weesh. 
An' w'en dees pretta hero com' 
For mak' me queen of all hees home, 
All common peopla een da land 
Mus' standa' 'round an' clap da hand 
Baycause he ees so fine an' grand! 
He mus' be all dese theengs — an' he 
True borna 'Merican mus' be." 

Eet's jus' dose last few word, you see, 
Dat's spoilin' evratheeng for me ! 
Eef I was borna 'Merican, 
/ sure would be da happy man. 



i6o MADRIGALI 



BUSINESS DIPLOMACY 

T^ES fat Dootch barber gotta shop 

-■ — * T'ree door from deesa bootblack stan', 

An' w'en he see da trade I gat 

He try for bust me eef he can, 
An' so he geeve outside hees shop 

A chair for neegger bootblack man. 

You theenk dat I am feela bad 

For see heem gat som' trade I had? 

Ah ! no, my f rand, 

I mak' pretand 
To smile an' seeng, I am so glad. 

Firs' theeng you know ees Meester Smeeth 
Dat use' for gat hees shine from me, 

He stop for shine from neegger man. 
I mak' pretand I do not see, 

But neegger man he mak' da face 
An' ees so glad as he can be. 

You theenk dat I am feela bad 
For see heem gat dees trade I had? 

Ah ! no, my f rand, 

I mak' pretand 
To smile an' seeng, I am so glad. 



MADRIGALI 161 

Nex' day w'en comesa Meester Smeeth, 
I say, "Good-morna" justa same. 

So jus' baycause I am polite 

Eet mak'sa Meester Smeeth ashame'. 

So he com' back; so evra wan 

Ees com' back where dey always came ! 

Da neegger man ees gatta mad, 
An' growl an' swear; he feel so bad. 

But I, my frand, 

I mak' pretand 
I do not see — but I am glad. 



162 MADRIGALI 



AN IDYLL OF OLD JOYS 

WHY shouldn't I speak of our exploit 
that morning out at the farm? 

Undignified? What if it was, Judge? We 
didn't do any great harm; 

And nobody saw us, that's certain, for the 
rest of the folks were asleep, 

And — well — O ! well, Judge, it's a story and 
really too good to keep. 

Besides, you're to blame for it all, Judge, 
for you must admit it was you 

Suggested the thing; and I'm certain I'd 
never have gone if you two, 

Yes, you and your crony, the Colonel, hadn't 
tapped at my bedroom door, 

Disturbing my peaceful slumber at the 
ridiculous hour of four. 

The "best time to fish," you assured us, and 
hopefully led us away 

Up over the hills that were faintly predict- 
ing the coming of day, 

And so, to the lake in the hollow, green- 
rimmed by its deep-wooded shores, 



MADRIGALI 163 



And then, when we got in the boat, Judge, 

with you hard at work with the oars, 
We found you'd forgotten the bait — Eh? 

What nonsense ! Of course, it was you. 
We brought your fault home at the time, 

Judge, and made you acknowledge it, 

too. 
O! well, let it pass. Then the Colonel be- 
nignly remarked that although 
Our fishing was off for that morning, we 

ought to have something to show; 
We shouldn't go home empty-handed, he 

said, and suggested the joys 
Of hunting those silly pond-lilies, like so 

many Sunday school boys. 
You fell into line with the notion and started 

to row us in-shore, 
And then we discovered that spring-board 

we never had noticed before. 
We gazed at the board and each other, and 

gazed at the spring-board again; 
You trailed one fat hand in the water and 

twiddled your fingers — and then 
You gave us the two-fingered signal that no 

fellow ever forgets. 



1 64 MADRIGALI 



We looked and we grinned at each other and 

whispered in chorus: "Let's!" 
There wasn't a soul there to see us, so we 

just beached the boat with a rush 
And fell to discarding our garments in the 

leafy underbrush. 
And I was first in — what? Nonsense! All 

right, we'll say you were the first, 
But, say, Judge, your plunge from that 

spring-board was positively the worst. 
I know; you just thought you'd be pretty and 

dove too high and too straight, 
Fetched bottom, and came up snorting and 

rubbing your shiny pate. 
I had to laugh so at the Colonel — Ungainly? 

Yes, wasn't he, though? 
My dive? Well, it would have been grace- 
ful if you hadn't hurried me so. 
But, say, when you ducked the poor Colonel, 

I thought that was shabby of you, 
And you sixty-four last December and he 

only sixty-two ! 
It served you right, too, that you had to 

"chaw beef" when you started to dress. 
What ? Me ? Why, I didn't do that, Judge ; 

that trick was the Colonel's, I guess. 



MADRIGALI 165 

But wasn't it great, though? And didn't 

you thrill when your body shot in, 
With nothing 'twixt you and the water, just 

nothing at all but your skin? 
We'd come to this lake rather often and 

bathed in the full light of day, 
With throngs of those summer sojourners 

who fritter their time in that way; 
But then there were thick bathing garments 

to cumber us, body and limb, 
And that sort of thing's but a "bath," Judge, 

but this was a regular "swim" ! 
And then, walking back to the farmhouse, 

with the rising sun in your face, 
Just gilding the hilltops with glory, you 

thrilled with a newly-found grace 
That wakened a host of sweet memories 

these long years forgotten, and then — 
Say, Judge, if we go back next summer, I 

dare you to do it again ! 



166 MADRIGALI 



FINER CLAY 

SURE, I used to think a pipe was the 
glory of a man, 
Troth I did then, Mary Ann. 
Long before my years were ripe (wid a 
rattle in one han') 
I would smoke one, Mary Ann. 
An', thinks I, there's nothin' gives 
To the grandest man that lives 
Such a finish, ye may say; 
An' it's well I mind the way 
That it nearly finished me. 
But I wouldn't let it be 
Till I liked it, Mary Ann. 

Then I found an ould dhudeen was a comfort 
to a man, 
An' none betther, Mary Ann; 
For wid that my teeth between, if I'd work 
to do or plan, 
It was aisy, Mary Ann. 
An' the more I smoked my clay, 
All the more I worked away; 
An' my thoughts were keen an' long 



MADRIGALI 167 

When the pipe was goin' strong. 
For the two of us, ye see, 
Were just suited to a "t" 
Wid each other, Mary Ann. 

So the pipe became my all, an' meself, a 
lonely man, 

Grew to love it, Mary Ann. 
But there's changes do befall that ye never 
un'erstan'; 

Faith, they do, then, Mary Ann. 
An' to-night there's somethin' wrong; 
For I've sat here thinkin' long, 
But my thoughts an' pipe don't fit, 
For I cannot keep it lit. 
What I'm tellin' ye is true, 
An' the throuble, dear, is you — 

Sure, it's jealous, Mary Ann! 



168 MADRIGALI 



THE CHRISTMAS READ- 
ING 

THE herald winds of Christmas sleep 
High-cradled on the wooded steep. 
The far stars only are a-thrill 
With life; the night is cold and still. 
Come, gather 'round the ingle-nook 
And from its shelf take down the book 
Wherein the master's genius drew 
Those pictures old, but ever new; 
Whose "Christmas Carol's" deathless chime 
Beats down the envious touch of time. 
Here let the children sit, and there 
Beneath the lamp's light place thy chair. 
Take, thou, the book, O ! golden voice, 
And read the pages of thy choice. 
Tell us of Scrooge and Marley's ghost, 
Of all our favorites old; but most, 
Tell us with tenderness of him 
We laugh and weep with — Tiny Tim. 
Call thou the soul to every face 
About thee in this holy place. 









■ 






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MADRIGALI 169 

We shall not be ashamed at all 

For frank, sweet tears you cause to fall; 

But fervently, with eyelids dim 

And hearts attuned to Tiny Tim, 

We'll quote his words when you have done, 

And say, "God bless us, every one I" 



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